


Mary Sue Redeemed

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: American Exchange Student at Hogwarts, F/M, M/M, Mary Sue, Multi, Special Girl is Special
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 23:39:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14272077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned...for her other lover.When a mysterious new student arrives at Hogwarts, Harry and Draco both vie for her attention. Until they find their own drifting to each other, that is.**shameless Sue!fic**intentional cliche**if you find yourself liking the Sue, stop reading immediately. Trust me**(Truth time: This is like my first ever fic which I rediscovered languishing in the bowels of ffn and decided to polish up a smidge and re-post/try to finish. I had big plans for Mary Sue, but readers got attached, somehow not realizing the character was largely satirical, and I abandoned the fic so as not to hurt their feels. You guys, however, have been duly warned.)





	1. Welcome to England

~  
_I think it's perfectly clear  
We're in the wrong band;  
Ginger is always sincere  
Just not to one man_  
~

  
The infirmary was beginning to feel like Harry's second home. As Madame Pomfrey guided the floating gurney on which he lay toward the familiar cot-lined hall, he had a wry thought that perhaps he should move his books and things permanently to the bedside table of the third cot on the right to save Ron the trouble of fetching them. Ron, by way of making light of his frequent hospitalization, had kidded Harry that he must fancy Madame Pomfrey. Harry shuddered at the prospect, but even if it were the case, the feeling seemed hardly mutual.  
  
"Mr. Potter," she declared, "You have to be one of _the_ most accident prone young men I have _ever_ seen." And considering how often she must see Neville, Harry thought that was saying something.  
  
Depositing him on his usual bed, Pomfrey began her examination. "Now let's have a look," she said, yanking roughly at Harry's shirt. He winced and forced himself to swallow a yelp of pain. "In the name of Merlin!" Pomfrey gasped. Beneath Harry's scarlet Quidditch robes his ribs and entire left side were beginning to turn several nasty shades of purple. "And _how_ exactly did this happen?"  
  
"Bludger," Harry said through gritted teeth as she prodded. "It got away from Angelina as she was trying to put them away, so I didn't exactly expect it."  
  
She clucked her tongue in disapproval as she moved to gather her wand and, no doubt, several different bottles of foul tasting medicine. "Really," she said shaking her head, "I can't believe they condone--much less _encourage--_ you children to play such a dangerous game. Well, you have a couple of broken ribs; easy enough to mend. But Merlin knows what else has been bruised or ruptured." Then, with no great attempt at gentleness she began administering Harry's treatment.  
  
To distract himself from this discomfort, Harry looked about him at the rest of the infirmary. He hadn't been there since the end of last year, but then, school had only started again about a month ago. As he had expected, nothing much had changed. The same old paintings of nurses and harried doctors hung on the walls. One painting of a very sweet looking old nurse (Harry's favorite) gave him a little wink and a shake of the head as if to say 'Here already?' Harry grinned...and then winced, as Pomfrey seemed think he had nothing to smile about and had prodded him especially hard. He sighed, a bit irritated, and resumed his examination. He swept his gaze down the familiar line of neat beds when his eyes came to rest on something he had failed to notice when he arrived. The last bed across from him on the right was occupied, but all Harry could discern of the patient was a mass of red hair. It was not red like Ron's. It was darker, like the color of drying blood. Curious. Who was this girl? Even if she was a first year, surely he couldn't have missed such a striking mane at the sorting ceremony, no matter how little attention he now paid to it. Harry's ribcage was momentarily forgotten as he studied the girl, or rather, her hair which lay in thick, immaculate waves like crimson snakes arrayed across her pillow. The effect was as unsettling as it was beautiful. Then, slowly, they shifted and beneath them were two dark but sparkling eyes, peering at him curiously. Her gaze was steady but friendly, and so Harry in turn felt bold enough--or rather _compelled--_ to sustain the link. Until...  
  
"Mr. Potter!"

Harry was pulled from his reverie by a very exasperated Madame Pomfrey. "Excuse me?" he said dazedly.  
  
"Are you _quite_ sure that bludger did not also make contact with your head, Mr. Potter?" She gave him a disgruntled look and Harry tried his best to appear apologetic. With an accepting 'hmph' she repeated herself. "I said I've done what I can, but in case you are bleeding in places that cannot be seen, I'd like you to remain here for a few hours where I can keep an eye on you." Then she unceremoniously threw a blanket across him and left, muttering something under her breath about bludgers and broomsticks.  
  
Harry looked after her until the click of her boot-heel faded entirely, and then he turned his attention back to his temporary roommate. He found her still staring at him, but when their eyes met again, she coyly turned her head.  
  
Although he was sure his nurse would have a fit if she caught him up and about, Harry's curiosity got the better of him. Not that he didn't mull over the decision for a whole thirty seconds. With a sharp, determined breath, he rolled from his bed and made his way slowly and painfully down the hall; and as he took a seat on the next to the last bed, he wondered how best to say hello.  
  
The girl looked over her shoulder at him but didn't turn, speaking from the midst of all that bloody hair. "I've always thought the best way to say hello was to do just that."  
  
Harry started. Had he spoken? Now she did sit up and turn to him. All at once Harry's confusion was disregarded, for it seemed the bed and floor beneath him had abruptly disappeared and the only thing he had to orient himself were those two large brown eyes. Though he was sure he'd never seen her before, this was no gangly first year. She had to be at least Harry's own age.  
  
_And_ , Harry thought as he felt his eyes involuntary widen, _she is quite, quite lovely._ No. Somehow lovely didn't seem to be the right word. She was, fittingly, bewitching. Just then, she blushed, adding the slightest tint to her porcelain cheeks, and broke into a small, sweet smile. Harry officially turned to goo...then realized he must be, unabashedly, staring.  
  
"H-hello," he stuttered.  
  
She smiled more broadly. "Hello." Her voice was clear and silvery. It sent the sweetest shiver running down Harry's spine.  
  
"I'm Harry."  
  
"It's nice to meet you, Harry."  _She's an American? How curious._ "I'm Saryn."  
  
"Saryn," Harry repeated dreamily. "That's a pretty name."  
  
"Thank you," she said, giggling at his smitten expression. She could have been named Alberta and he would have said the same. "I've always preferred it, but my mother used to call me Sue." She seemed suddenly sad. "I suppose Saryn was too exotic for everyday use." Harry didn't respond to this. He fixed his gaze on her glittering eyes again. They were large and round, slanted slightly, almost catty; and they seemed to absorb the red of her hair, turning them a dark auburn. Deciding Harry wasn't about to resume the conversation any time soon, she spoke. "The nurse, Madame Pomfrey is it? She doesn't seem too happy with you."  
  
Harry woke from his trance and shrugged. "I think she thinks I'm a masochist."  
  
"Are you?" she asked, her eyebrows raised. Now it was Harry's turn to blush.  
  
"Oh no, just unfortunate."  
  
She looked down at the hand Harry held clutched at his injured side. Boldly, rather like a curious child, she reached out and lifted his shirt to look; although she did so with considerably more delicacy than had Madame Pomfrey.  
  
"Gracious!" she said studying the bruise. "That looks very painful. Are you alright?"  
  
"Oh yeah," he said trying to sound stoic. "These things are pretty standard in Quidditch I guess."  
  
She dropped his shirt and gave him a quizzical look. "Quidditch? Oh yes, I've heard about that. It's a kind of sport isn't it?"  
  
"You've never seen Quidditch?" he began to ask, but she cut him short.  
  
"From what my aunt tells me it sounds exciting. But dangerous, what with the budgers..."  
  
"Bludgers," Harry corrected.  
  
"...and those fast broomsticks," she went on without missing a beat. "Do you get hurt often?"  
  
Harry wasn't sure how to answer. How often was often? "Well..."  
  
"You seem to have a rather mean scar on your forehead. Was that from a bludger, as well?"  
  
"My scar?" Harry asked giving her a blank look. It took a moment to register in Harry's brain, but this girl really had no idea who he was, or that who he was was of any special significance. That realization somehow made him feel more comfortable with her. That is, until he remembered how he _did_ receive his scar. "No," he said, not really wanting to explain it all just then, "I didn't get it from a bludger." She eyed him curiously and then intuitively changed the subject.  
  
"I don't mean to ask so many questions. This is all just so new to me."  
  
As Harry drove from his mind the many unpleasant memories evoked by her innocent question, he realized again how fascinated he was with her. "So, you don't know anything about the Wizarding world?"  
  
She looked away shyly and shook her head. "Not much."  
  
"But surely they have Wizard schools in America?"  
  
"Oh yes, no doubt they do, but my parents would never let me attend." Again, her voice dropped at the mention of her parents, and Harry sensed the subject was painful for her. Why, he wondered. Could it be, perhaps, that she was orphaned like he was? Almost in answer to that thought she continued.  
  
"After they died, I came to live with my aunt here in England. She's a witch and of course doesn't begrudge my...abilities. So she thought it would be a good idea that I came here and tried to catch up on my education. "  
  
"How _old_ are you?" Harry asked before he could help himself, hoping it didn't come off as rudely as he thought it had.  
  
She didn't seem to register any offense. "Sixteen," she answered dejectedly. "I'm so dreadfully behind. I've been taking these lessons called...Kwikspell, I think it is?" Harry gave an inward smile remembering his fortunate discovery in Filch's office his second year. "But my aunt thought I should take proper classes, as there's only so much you can learn from a book."  
  
_Don't let Hermione hear you say that._  
  
"Did you say something, Harry?" she asked. Puzzled, Harry shook his head. "Oh. Well, we were sorting things out in Professor Dumbledore's Office when..." She stopped suddenly and Harry gave her a questioning look. "When I was struck by a headache," she finished in a tone that was a little too deliberate.  
  
Harry decided not to ask. "I'm sure you'll love it here," he said instead. "My friend Hermione is really smart. I'll bet you anything she wouldn't mind tutoring you."  
  
Saryn's face lit up immediately. "Really?"  
  
"Sure. And besides, if she's busy teaching you, maybe she'll lay off Ron and me about doing our homework," he added with a smile. A smile she returned, and once again Harry felt himself being drawn into those dark eyes. There was just something about them; an expression that, for all their naivety, seemed so...knowing.  
  
"Mr. Potter!" Madame Pomfrey's voice echoed sharply off the infirmary walls. Harry must have jumped at least a foot, causing his side to veritably explode with pain. The nurse was making her way briskly and angrily towards her charge.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh boy, here we go," he whispered to Saryn who bit both her lips to repress a giggle.  
  
"Just what do you think you're doing out of bed?" she scolded shrilly. "Don't you _want_ to mend?" Like a chastised dog, Harry made to rise and return to his own bed. "No, no. No sense in making it worse by moving you again. Just lie down where you are."  
  
Harry couldn't believe his luck. He was suddenly thrilled at the prospect of being allowed to bed down so close to his new acquaintance, as there were a hundred little curiosities he was dying to voice. However, his elation was short-lived.  
  
"Yes, here will do, for I think Miss Sylvany is looking much better." Madame Pomfrey's expression softened instantly as she addressed Saryn. "And how are you feeling now, my dear?"  
  
"Oh much better, ma'am. Thank you," Saryn replied oh-so-politely.  
  
"Then you are quite free to go."  
  
With a small, quick smile of thanks, Saryn slipped from the bed and straightened her clothes. Once again, Harry looked on, spellbound, and remarked to himself on how languid her gestures were. She moved with such an easy grace that Harry had the feeling he could watch her straighten her buttons all day. But Madame Pomfrey, once again ruining things, gestured for Saryn to come along so she might escort her from the infirmary. As they passed, she whispered to him.  
  
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Harry."  
  
"I'll see you in the common room," Harry almost replied, when he caught himself. He hadn't thought to ask.  
  
"Saryn!" he called after them. She stopped and turned as her escort threw Harry and impatient glance.  
  
"Saryn, have you been sorted? Do you know what house you're in?"  
  
"Oh yes," she replied as though meaning to mention it earlier. "I'm in Slytherin House." And with that she was whisked away, leaving a very shocked and crestfallen Harry Potter in her wake.

 

* * *

  
  
  
Draco Malfoy had his misgivings. "So just how did a _mudblood_ manage to get into Slytherin?" he spat disgustedly.  
  
"Y'know, I've heard all sorts of things. Snape says she isn't _technically_ a mudblood, though that's all he'll say. Well, besides that we aren't to bother her about it," Pansy Parkinson provided, loving the taste of the fresh gossip that spilled so eagerly from her lips.  
  
"Is she rooming with you?" Draco asked. At this she gave a resentful snort.  
  
"No. Since she started so late there wasn't anywhere to put her, really. They had to fix up an old storage dungeon for her; the little one at the end of the hallway past the _actual_ dormitories." She was trying to come up with some hatefully clever remark about Saryn living in a broom closet to use the next time she encountered the new girl. The trouble was, Pansy wasn't clever, only very jealous that Saryn had a private room.  
  
Draco mulled this over, making no attempt to hide the fact he was now ignoring Pansy's continued prattle. Slighted, she finally marched off indignantly, leaving Draco to himself.  
  
"What's so technical about being a mudblood?" he muttered, pacing the common room. "Either you are or you aren't." Draco wasn't about to let Salazar Slytherin's noble legacy be tainted by the admittance into their ranks of a textbook incarnation of everything the proud Wizard despised. "Might as well wrap Granger in a green and silver scarf."  
  
As he brooded, he absently fondled Neville's new Rememberall (Neville had had to write to his Gran for a new one, being unable to remember where he'd put the old one) which he had deftly lifted during Potions that day. But his self-satisfaction in this was overshadowed by his doubts about his house's latest addition. The mysterious object of his vexation had apparently shut herself in her room sometime during the afternoon when Draco had been out spying on Gryffindor's Quidditch practice. Their new captain, Angelina Johnson, apparently hadn't strayed too far from her predecessor's coaching techniques, so the afternoon might have been a horrendous waste of time had it not been for the subtle charm Draco had cast as Angelina was putting away the equipment which knocked a particularly irritable bludger from her hands and sent it soaring beautifully right into Harry Potter's unsuspecting ribcage. In the bustle that had ensued, Draco lost himself on the far side of the lake to elude discovery, and by the time he had made it back to the common room, the new girl had already bastioned herself in her room. She didn't even emerge for dinner, which Draco had missed hoping to catch her en route. His growling stomach did little to improve his presently rather sour opinion of her.  
  
The night was wearing on and the common room had long since emptied despite it being a Friday night. Draco decided it would do just a well to fume over his disappointing evening from the comfort of his bed and turned to descend the dim passage that led to his room. But before he reached it's threshold he heard, echoing off the bare dungeon walls, the distinct sound of rusty hinges and the swish and clank of a door being closed. It had come from the direction of the girl's dormitories. He quickly stowed himself behind the dungeon bulletin board to spy.  
  
A shock of intensely red hair, its length rivaling that of Rapunzel's herself, peeked from the passage and turned slowly as its owner carefully surveyed the common room. Draco watched with baited breath as a profile of delicate, graceful features rotated into view and then two deep set, almost black eyes swept towards his hiding place. There they stayed, if only for an instant, on the shadows in which Draco stooped. Draco did not so much as breathe. Seemingly satisfied, the girl stepped from the passage and glided towards the recently abandoned couch where she curled up, not unlike a snake coiling to rest, and opened the book she had brought. Even though the air was chill, as the summer warmth present outside never really infiltrated their subterranean passages (Draco himself wore a formidable sweater), it didn't seem to bother the girl. She was unshod and otherwise clad only in sheer pajama bottoms and a sleeveless top. Her pale, bare skin had an alabaster glow in the dim light of the torches which failed to penetrate the shadowed pitch of her eyes. There was an uncanny stillness about her. It gave her a sinister air that Draco found very alluring. For a long while he stood unmoving, drinking in the sight of her.

 _Funny Pansy didn't mention how attractive she was, a fact that could hardly have been easily forgotten,_ Draco thought. _But then, with the way Pansy's always ogling me, constantly vying for my attention, I can see where she might not be so quick to promote any possible competition._  
  
It may have been a play of the light, but Draco thought he could discern the traces of a smile deepen in the girl's marble smooth complexion. "Well I, for one, don't remember mentioning any intention to compete. Especially for a boy I've never met."  
  
Draco's mouth fell open and all the blood in his body quickly relocated to the vicinity of his ankles. The girl lifted her eyes to meet his through the darkness; a darkness they couldn't possibly penetrate. Draco shuffled wordlessly from his hiding place. "I..." he stuttered, his thoughts trying and failing to mold themselves into any semblance of a coherent sentence. Her eyes narrowed in amusement. "Nevermind," she said softly, gesturing to the chair opposite her. "Have a seat."  
  
Draco did this, crossing the room without once taking his eyes off her, and so stumbling more than once over the common room's sparse furnishings in the process.  
  
"I didn't mean to startle you," she said, but then recanted. "Well, perhaps I did, but I couldn't resist. You had so much confidence in your powers of stealth." She was unable to suppress a smile. Had his blood not still been clinging tenaciously to his toes, Draco might have blushed. "I pick up on too many things here," she went on. "Something about the air is super-conducive of..." She stopped, unsure if Draco was absorbing a word of what she said. He blinked and finally shook off his shock.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Oh, it's nothing."  
  
Draco's icy composure was rapidly reassembling itself and he fixed her with a suspicious look. "Who _are_ you?"  
  
She did not respond straight away. She seemed to be appraising him. This made Draco extremely uncomfortable, but he refused to show this outwardly and silently berated himself for allowing himself such indulgence earlier.  
  
"My name is Saryn. Saryn Sylvany," she said at last. "And yours?"  
  
"Draco. Draco Malfoy," he replied, accentuating his last name as if to suggest some measure of importance. Saryn was completely unfazed.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy," she acknowledged. "Might I ask why you were spying on me?" It wasn't an indictment.  
  
"I was simply hoping to have a word with our new member," he said, flashing a 'trust me' smile that, for all it's perfection, never failed to appear a bit cruel and certainly not sincere.  
  
"So?" she asked expectantly. "Which word was that?"  
  
Draco's long-plotted interrogation failed him. She didn't quite reek of mudblood as he had expected. Was she really raised by Muggles? She didn't really seem like one, though her accent threw him off a bit. Then again, Draco hadn't studied many Muggles. His thoughts were momentarily written in his expression and he eyed her distrustfully as they slithered through his mind. "I only wanted to welcome you to Slytherin," he began, now pouring on his oily charm in undue amounts. "As I understand it you weren't raised in the Wizarding world. True, that's seems a bit odd for a Slytherin, but," he gave a small shrug, "as such, I'm sure you are unaware of the-"  
  
"Politics here?"  
  
"You took the words right out of my mouth. You see, we Slytherins are very proud of our heritage, something we wouldn't want to...defile by associating with those, well, _below_ us," Draco said, giving her a meaningful look. He surprised himself. These words seemed like something his father would say. In fact, now that he thought about it, his father had said them, if not word for word, several times throughout Draco's childhood. Saryn was looking at him thoughtfully and Draco resolved to hold her gaze.  _Damn, I thought girls blinked incessantly_ , he thought. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up.  
  
"So," she said in a soft voice, startling Draco who had been concentrating very hard on their staring contest. "That carried the tone of a threat, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"Threat?" he responded as though that was a truly absurd suggestion. "I simply meant that Hogwarts must be a considerable change from the life to which you are accustomed. I thought is might make it easier for you to settle in if you were more... _educated_ about the way things work here. One less thing for you to worry about. I only had your interest in mind."  
  
"And I suppose _you_ epitomize the ideal Slytherin?" she said after a pause. Something in her tone made him almost afraid to respond, but his pride overrode his caution.  
  
"You might say that. I think for some--say, _Potter,_ " he sneered, loathing thick on his tongue as he spoke the name, "Malfoy and Slytherin are one and the same."  
  
"I see," she said coolly. "So, I shall look to you for inspiration?"  
  
"I would hope," he said conceitedly. "Not that I'd like another Malfoy would-be dragging my heels," he added, looking her up and down, "but you seem to have the manner down nicely already. So long as you don't go fraternizing with mudbloods and muggle-lovers, like Weasley or that know-it-all Granger, you should fit in nicely."  
  
"I'll certainly keep that in mind. And thank you so much for the tutorial," she said before returning to her attention to her reading, obviously dismissing him. Draco, however, showed no signs of leaving.  
  
"Listen, Sylvany," said Draco. She raised her eyebrow but not her head. "I don't want to get off on the wrong foot here. I think I might like you, So, if you have any questions concerning etiquette I would be more than happy to take you under my wing."  
  
She looked at him thoughtfully. "We shall see. Now, I do believe you were headed for bed?" She smiled at him in a very ambiguous way. "Don't let me keep you."

 

***

  
  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way toward the Great Hall together. This occurrence was surprisingly rare, as they usually meandered down intermittently, eventually congregating in the usual spot. But this morning Hermione, worried about Harry's injury, had lingered in the common room until he rose. It seems she thought she and Ron might both be needed to carry him to breakfast.  
  
"Are you _sure_ you're alright?" she asked him for the tenth time.  
  
"Hermione, I'm _fine_. A little sore perhaps, but nothing to worry about." However, since worrying seemed to be one of Hermione's favorite pastimes, his assurances had little effect. Still, she nodded and reluctantly changed the subject.  
  
"So, did you hear there's a new student?"  
  
"Yeah," answered Ron. "Seamus overheard McGonagall talking about it. Don't know much else, though." Harry was suddenly very interested in the cuffs of the sleeves of his jumper.  
  
Hermione scrunched her nose thoughtfully. "Seems strange, doesn't it? Starting so late in the term? Where'd they transfer from do you think? We had all those students transfer from Durmstrang after Karkaroff disappeared. Maybe she just arrived late."  
  
"Um. She didn't transfer from anywhere," Harry offered in a small voice. Hermione slowed in her tracks.

" _She?_ "  
  
"Yeah, her name's Saryn," he elaborated, suddenly very shy. "She's moved here from the States. I don't think she's ever been to Wizarding school."  
  
"How do you know all this?" she asked.  
  
"I saw her in the infirmary yesterday."  
  
"Yesterday? You talked to her?" asked Ron, torn between curiosity and a mild sense of betrayal. "Well, why didn't you mention it earlier?"  
  
"It was just a quick word," Harry said in his defense, pulling a shrug. "I didn't feel much like talking when I came up, recently shattered ribs and all. Besides, that's really all there is to tell, I promise."  
  
Ron shrugged as well, seemed to accept this, and proceeded earnestly towards breakfast with Harry and Hermione in tow. Hermione, however, did not seem to easily placated. This was one of those rare moments when Harry almost resented Hermione's keen intuition. He could feel her look on the back of his neck but ignored it. He had other things to think about. The mention of Saryn added to his turmoil about how exactly he should feel about the girl, but it also reminded him how nonetheless eager he was to see her again. As they entered the Great Hall, he automatically scanned the Slytherin table for her red waves, but there was nary a sign of the crimson cascade.  
  
"Is she here?" Ron asked as they settled down to their plates. For show, Harry scanned the room again--the _whole_ room--and then shook his head. "Hey, I wonder what house she'll be in," Ron mused aloud. Harry's stomach turned. He feigned ignorance and speared absently at his sausages.  
  
"Is she pretty?" Hermione asked rather spontaneously, but the expression she wore looked as if she didn't really want to know.  
  
"As pretty as the next girl," Harry responded, concentrating too hard on sounding nonchalant to find the question odd. He wasn't sure how long he could keep this up. He hated the feeling that he was lying to his best friends, the two people in all the world to whom he felt he could tell almost anything, but somehow, he also had the feeling that if they knew he had a raging crush on a member of Slytherin house, they'd never let him live it down. He stared at his scrambled eggs as though they might yield some oracle like Trelawny and her tea leaves, but the lumpy composition offered no advice. They had, however, injured Harry's appetite. He'd never noticed just how unpalatable they really appeared.  
  
_This is ridiculous!_ he told himself. _It was only a brief encounter. She's in Slytherin, for goodness' sake, how worthwhile can she be?_ He shook his head to drive away any further thoughts of the redhead and started chatting enthusiastically with Ron about the upcoming Quidditch game. Per usual when this particular subject is broached, Harry hardly got a word in edgewise. But as Ron began to rant with rising indignation about Slytherin's foul behavior during the last Gryffindor/Slytherin match ("bumphing, haversacking, blagging, sons of-"..."Ron!") Harry found his eyes drift expectantly and involuntarily to the doors of the Great Hall.

 

***  


Saryn never showed up for breakfast; or lunch. Draco, now completely over the shock of the previous night, assumed this absence had something to do with her strange comment about 'picking up on too many things'. Though, what exactly that meant eluded him. "I should have had the presence of mind to ask," he chided himself, wondering if Saryn was in her room just then. Since it was such a pleasant Saturday afternoon, the common room was likely to be nearly empty, and so it seemed the perfect time to make another attempt at his cross-examination.  
  
Saryn was where he had expected to find her, and her door was ajar. Taking this as a standing invitation, Draco let himself in without bothering to knock. The room was small and cluttered with large, mismatched furniture. In the far corner, in a massive leather armchair, sat Saryn. Or rather, _lounged_ Saryn, as she was draped easily and elegantly over its contours, her legs hanging over the armrest. Her eyes were closed, but when Draco came in, she smiled. Not an inviting smile or a 'pleasure to see you smile', just a cold, acknowledging smile. Then she ignored him, humming to the faint sound of music coming from what appeared to Draco to be a pair of small plastic earmuffs connected by a string to a small, flat plastic box with buttons. As he studied the strange contraption, Saryn's eyelids slid open, her gaze automatically fixed on her guest.  
  
"What is that?" Draco asked her, unsure if she could hear him.  
  
"Tori Amos," she replied.  
  
"Who? No, that thing, what is it?" he asked, pointing.  
  
"Do you like Tori Amos?" she asked, totally ignoring his question.  
  
Draco cocked an eyebrow. "I've never met her."

She smiled. "Of course not." She sat up now, drawing one knee to her chest and pulling the other beneath her. Draco mused that it appeared as though things like chairs were totally alien to her, though effortlessly adapted to. He found this particular mannerism, as many others, very seductive. The eerie music coming from the earmuffs faded to silence, and Saryn then fixed him with a gaze which, though not impatient, enticed him to speak.  
  
"Is that...a _Muggle_ contraption?" he asked, slightly disgusted.  
  
"Ah, yes," she answered, slightly disappointed, and slipped the thing off her head. "The obvious Slytherin abhorrence of anything Muggle-related. I fear I have slipped in my serpentine duties, but do have patience with me, I'm still learning."  
  
Draco seemed to interpret this as a genuine apology and gave a casual, forgiving wave of his hand before making himself at home on Saryn's bed, reclining on one elbow. "So it's true, you were actually raised by Muggles?"  
  
"'Fraid so."  
  
Draco was unsure how exactly to feel about this girl. True, she seemed to have more brains than the typical dungeon resident, and Slytherin house's collective lack of intelligence had been a recurring frustration to Draco for a while. She certainly wasn't hard on the eyes, either. But somehow Draco felt he _should_ be slightly repulsed by the fact that she was _practically_ a muggle.  
  
_Perhaps I should just feel sorry for her._  
  
But pity was something Draco found he had precious little of, and he usually reserved his small stores for himself. "I didn't see you in the Great Hall," he finally said.  
  
"I thought I should wait until I'm more accustomed to the environment."  
  
"I see," he replied, totally clueless but determined not to show it. Besides, he intended to make himself her saviour. "Well, dinner's over, but we can arrange something. I happen to know the secret entrance to the kitchens. I'll show you. Those ridiculous house elves will bury you in goodies."  
  
"I know," she said. "In fact, I've eaten. They sent a large amount back with me when I left last night."  
  
Draco sat up on the bed. "You went to the kitchen's last night?" 

"Yes, not long after you retired."  
  
"You know, you can get into a fair amount of trouble for wandering the halls at night," he said, more out of crestfallen agitation than concern.  
  
"I figured as much."  
  
_Hmm. Ballsy little bitch._ "Wait a minute! Just how did you know how to get into the kitchens?"  
  
"Crabbe and Goyle."  
  
"You've spoken to Crabbe and Goyle?" He'd have to have a word with those two. He couldn't believe they didn't mention anything to him.  
  
"Oh no, I've not spoken to anyone besides you, really. You should feel special, I suppose," she said with a sly smile.  
  
"But then how...?"  
  
"Alright, Draco," she sighed, obviously feeling their parley was getting tedious. "If you have not already surmised, I am fairly...psychic."  
  
"Psychic?" he asked sceptically.  
  
"Yes, psychic. Clairvoyant, hyper-intuitive, whichever you'd like to call it. And since I was introduced to the Wizarding world, it has gradually intensified. Here at Hogwarts, for some reason, I seem to be particularly sensitive, hence my seclusion. It's actually a bloody pain in the arse, to use the native terminology. But, it _is_ occasionally useful. Like when two gluttonous half-ogres come trudging into the common room with their arms full of pastries, _still_ chuckling to themselves about the way the pear squirms under their finger when they tickle it. So now perhaps you won't feel quite so sorry for this ballsy little bitch."  
  
Draco was suddenly very uncomfortable. "I'd say it was a _bit_ rude not to mention this earlier." His voice held more venom than he had intended.  
  
"I had hoped I wouldn't have to mention it at all. It will be taken care of by Monday. It's much too distracting, and Prof. Snape is concocting something to tame it. It's almost a shame," she said, grinning mischievously. "It would make taking tests so much easier."  
  
This news allowed Draco to relax a bit, though he was still considerably flustered. "I see. Then in that case, perhaps it would be better if I did not pester you before then." He rose to leave.  
  
"Oh, Draco?"  
  
He paused at the door.  
  
"I really will be lost on Monday. It's amazing how different things can look by the light of day. If your offer still stands, I would appreciate a faithful guide."  
  
_She makes it sound like I'm a seeing eye dog._  
  
"Very well. I shall see you on Monday morning, then. If you wait for me in the common room, we can go up to breakfast together. Until then." He bowed in a farewell a little too curt to be considered gentlemanly and left.


	2. I Never was a Cornflake Girl

_~_  
So don't give me respect  
Don't give me a piece of your preciousness;  
flaunt all she's got in our old neighborhood  
I'm sure she'll make a few friends...  
~

On Monday, as classes resumed, Saryn finally materialized. She seemed unaffected by the rumors and soft exclamations of awe that followed her through the passages almost as closely as did Draco Malfoy. For days he was on her heels like a pale silver shadow. Smug pride hung on his face like a neon sign laying claim to the beauty, and it was powered by every double take or salivating stare of every boy who watched her pass and the envious glance of every girl whose affections Draco had ever shunned.

Saryn, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to all eyes...except Harry's. Her appearance at meals was still a rarity, but when present she always gave him a fleeting glance and the slightest hint of a smile which Harry somehow knew had nothing to do with whatever Draco happened to be whispering in her ear. When she passed him in the halls, it was the same, so subtle Harry might have dismissed it as his imagination...had it not been for Hermione.  
  
"Why is she always leering at you?" she fumed on the way to potions.  
  
"Probably because Harry's leering at her," Ron kidded. Harry blushed and Hermione gave Ron a disapproving look.  
  
"What? I leer at her, too. Oh, come on, Hermione. We can't expect you to understand. Maybe if _Vicky_ was here, you'd have something to gawk at as well."  
  
"First of all, his name is _not_ Vicky. And second..."

Hermione's retort was cut short by a familiar drawl from behind them.  
  
"Well, if it isn't the Holy Trinity," Draco remarked. "Lover's spat, Weasley? Come now, we all know how much you adore Muggles, but surely you can overlook the few measly drops of Wizarding blood Granger _does_ possess."  
  
"Sod off, Malfoy!" Ron spat before Hermione dragged him into the dungeons, casting Malfoy a look smattering of such contempt, it would have made the blood run cold in any other person. Malfoy's lip curled in sadistic satisfaction. Harry glared at him, as well, and ducked into the potions classroom after his friends, but as he did, he caught sight of Saryn coming to a halt beside the blonde boy. Harry did an about face and hovered just inside the doorway, hoping to at least hear the sound of her voice.  
  
"Why do you always wear that thing, Draco?" came her mercurial tone. Harry peeked around the door frame.  
  
Malfoy tilted his head at her, exceedingly perplexed. "What? My tie?" he said, stroking it. "It's standard dress code. But of course, Father bought me this silk one last sum-"  
  
"I was referring to that sneer," she corrected. Harry only just caught a hiccup of laughter before it escaped his lips. "You know, you'd be a strikingly handsome boy if you weren't constantly contorting your features."

Harry disliked hearing Saryn referring to Draco Malfoy as 'strikingly handsome', but perhaps it was worth it to see Malfoy's ears burn a shade of crimson that rivaled the color of Saryn's hair. Whether it was from being publicly criticized, or from being considered strikingly handsome, it was impossible to tell. Harry had the feeling it was a combination of the two. Malfoy was, for once in his life, speechless. With an indifferent air, she left her stunned companion to go to class. Harry had to practically sprint to his table to avoid being caught by her. As he took his seat, he noted Ron and Hermione were still arguing in hushed tones.  
  
"You won't believe what I just overheard," Harry said jubilantly but was ignored.  
  
"Well, I for one don't understand what all the fuss is about," Hermione stated. "So she looks as though she hasn't seen the sun for years. So it looks like her head is bleeding profusely. Is that all it takes to turn a head? Pasty skin and unnaturally red hair? And I'll bet you _anything_ it isn't natural. It isn't just you hormone driven little boys, either." Ron looked very upset about being called a little boy, but she didn't give him a chance to voice his indignation. "The staff seem to have gone gaga over her, as well," she went on. "I mean, every professor treats each of the students with a certain respect--well except Snape that is--but they approach _her_ with a reverence that seems to border on fear. I want to know just what could be so _bloody_ special about her."

She must have really been bothered by this, Hermione almost never swore.  
  
"Well, Trelawny was talking about her in Divination," Ron said. "I mean, I'm not exactly sure what all she said, 'cause of course, I wasn't paying any attention, as usual. But she mentioned something about being impressed by her 'powers'."  
  
Hermione was exasperated. "Oh,  _please_ , Ron. Trelawny is a kook. And if she's so fond of this girl and her 'powers', than _she_ must be a kook, as well!"  
  
"I don't know why you'd say that."  
  
The three of them swiveled toward the voice simultaneously. Ron's mouth went slack, and Hermione turned a very endearing shade of pink. There stood none other than Saryn Sylvany herself, a puzzled but unconcerned look on her face. Hermione was a little embarrassed but, once recovered from her shock, stood her ground.  
  
"I say that because that is what she is. How she can call herself a professor and still sleep soundly at night is beyond me. The subject is pointless. It should be called Elaborate Conjecture instead of Divination. All she does is perpetuate superstitions."  
  
"I'm not entirely certain about that." Saryn replied. "You're Muggle-born, aren't you?"  
  
"I hardly see what _that_ has to do with anything," Hermione roiled.  
  
"I meant no offense," Saryn interjected. "I just thought that you would be familiar with, or at the very least vaguely aware of, the concepts of physics. I find it is an area of study in which most Wizards are not well versed. Mention Einstein and they react about the way a Muggle would to the name Dumbledore."  
  
Hermione accepted this but looked at Saryn as if to ask, 'And your point?'  
  
"The universe follows a certain set of rules which we do not _entirely_ understand. Regardless of our ignorance, these rules still apply, and we see them at work everyday. A Muggle would no doubt look upon all we do here in much the same way you look upon Divination: smoke and mirrors and superstition. We, however, know better. But magic is a condition of life that we accept in full faith. We don't question it." Hermione raised an eyebrow impatiently. "What I'm saying is," Saryn continued in her characteristic tone of infinite, unruffled patience, "if we raise our wands and say ' _Wingardium Leviosa'_ , we know the object will rise." Saryn did this, levitating Hermione's sealed ink bottle. She lowered her wand, but the bottle remained suspended. Then, to their surprise, it began to twirl and dance, seemingly like the thoughts through Saryn's mind. She stared at it absently as she continued. "Now, we don't know exactly how or why this works. Neither, perhaps, do we care to 'waste' time trying to explain it. Quantum Physics may provide us with some answers as to this phenomenon, but as the technicalities are--to us--superfluous, we don't seek to understand them." Saryn raised her hand and, using her finger like a conductor's baton, lazily directed the rotating ink bottle in loops and spirals. "Why this works for us and not for Muggles is a remarkable curiosity. It appears to have much to do with predisposition, innate power which is obviously not universal. In this same way, perhaps there are those more predisposed to the art of Divination. But those people, confident in it's validity, care more about developing their craft than contriving scientific rationalizations for those with lesser ability in that area."  
  
"Are you saying," Hermione said in a forcibly calm voice that, frankly, frightened both Ron and Harry, "that there is a hierarchy of magical ability, and you and Trelawny rank higher in it than I do?"  
  
Saryn regarded Hermione's acrid expression. She raised her hand and the ink bottle stopped tumbling and went soaring into her waiting palm. "I'm not sure what I'm saying," she said, returning Hermione's ink to her. "Only musing aloud."  
  
"Oh, it's alright," Hermione spat sardonically. " _Most_ Slytherins assume superiority in an imagined Wizarding aristocracy. I'm hardly surprised."  
  
Saryn only looked at Hermione with an unreadable expression and, without retort, returned to her seat beside Draco who immediately leaned in to whisper to her. He cast a sidelong sneer at Hermione's infuriated expression. A sneer which quickly dissolved as he met Saryn's look and recalled the recent episode in the hallway. Harry broke into half a righteous grin and turned to his friend.  
  
"Y'know, Hermione," he said timidly, "I'm not sure she meant that in the way you're taking it."  
  
"Yeah," Ron added, "I mean, I'd never thought of it that way. Maybe I should start waiting to take my naps until _after_ Divination." This comment did not help matters.  
  
"Oh, please, Harry! You know how Slytherins are. I'm surprised she didn't just out and say my Muggle heritage must have sabotaged my 'powers' of Divination."  
  
"Well, maybe she's not like most Slytherins," Harry returned.  
  
"If she wasn't like most Slytherins, she wouldn't be one, now would she?" Hermione spat.  
  
Before Harry could argue, Snape came striding to his podium. The expression he wore told them he had overheard everything that had just transpired. He cast Harry and his friends a snotty look and then began his lesson.  
  
"Today, class, we will begin work on the Draught of Disillusionment. It is a highly advanced potion which, no doubt, our Mr. Longbottom will not be the one to succeed famously in mispreparing." Neville seemed to shrink in his seat and cast an imploring look at Hermione who nodded reassuringly back at him. The entire exchange was noted by the Potions Master. "Now, many of you may foolishly take for granted the function of this draught, which really is quite self-explanatory. However, the nature of illusions, especially those self-imposed, is precisely to play down the potency of reality and form a rather comfortable blanket of denial about the afflicted. The purpose of the draught is to rip away the self spun fantasy pertaining to whatever matter weighs heaviest upon it's drinker, and also to cause them to face the truth of said circumstance."

He stared meaningfully down his long hawkish nose at his class. "This last part is more important than one might realize. I have seen subjects who have ingested a poorly brewed draught go momentarily mad under the weight of the bare truth they are suddenly forced to confront. Keep that in mind as you prepare it, especially those of you with unusually harsh circumstances, past or present..." His eyes shot immediately to Harry "...as you will be testing your potions yourself at the end of the term. I believe you will find the instructions on page 1216 of your texts. Proceed."  
  
Neville began to gather his things as Hermione made room for him to join Harry, Ron and her at their table, but Snape quickly intervened.  
  
"No, I think not, Miss Granger. If Mr. Longbottom cannot follow a potions recipe by now, he all but deserves his fate." Neville cast his eyes sheepishly to the floor, while Hermione threw Snape a dagger drawn look. Snape almost smiled as he continued. "However, since the potion is an advanced one, and considering Miss Sylvany's disadvantage, I think you shall, instead, be coaching her."  
  
It was all Hermione could do to hold her tongue. Saryn began to gather her things.  
  
"No, no, Miss Sylvany, don't trouble yourself. Miss Granger can go to you," he said turning toward his office.  
  
"It's really no trouble. That wouldn't quite be polite, and I already have my things in hand," Saryn replied matter-of-factly as she made her way towards the stunned Gryffindor.

Snape froze and pivoted to face the girl, disbelief flickering across his expression, his face going even pale than usual, before he was able to regain his composure. Blatant contradiction was a rare occurrence in his dungeon, and it was absolutely unheard of coming from a member of his own house. Saryn seemed to ignore him, even as everyone else eyed him in startled, breathless anticipation. Surprisingly, the professor said nothing at all in reprimand, and finally, he strode sulkily to his office and slammed the door.  
  
Saryn, meanwhile, was arranging her things almost cheerfully before her. Harry gawked in undisguised admiration. Ron actually smiled at her. Hermione, on the other hand, was staring holes in the tabletop.  
  
"Why did you do that?" she asked, obviously suspicious, despite her relief.  
  
"Well, it appeared he was being a bit mean-spirited. I didn't think, from the look on your face, that you'd want to be surrounded by Slytherins. And frankly," she said, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, "neither do I."  
  
The rest of the class period passed rather quietly, and Hermione's voice just almost sounded friendly as she explained to Saryn that if she didn't shave her shrivelfig more finely, it would never dissolve properly. At last, Professor Snape reappeared to dismiss the class (he had curiously remained stowed in his office the entire period) but finished with a request that Miss Sylvany kindly remain behind. Hermione was the first out of the room, literally dragging Ron and Harry after her by the shirtfront, without a single parting word to Saryn.  
  
However, they were soon to discover their friend was not simply fleeing the scene. The moment they cleared the threshold, she ducked behind the open door, motioning for Ron and Harry to follow suit.  
  
"What are we doing?" groaned Ron, "It's lunchtime." His stomach growled in agreement.  
  
"Shh. Something's going on here and I, for one, want to know what."  
  
Harry, however, didn't argue. He had little appetite; butterflies had wrecked havoc on his stomach from sitting so close to Saryn for the entire class period. Besides, he was, of course, curious himself.  
  
The classroom slowly emptied with no one paying any attention to the assembly behind the door. When the last student left, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stacked like a totem pole to peer through the thin crack made by the hinges between the door and wall.

Snape stood imposingly at the front of the classroom with Saryn waiting expectantly before him. "Miss Sylvany, I'm not entirely sure what kind of liberties you've enjoyed elsewhere." he intoned. "However, in my classroom, and indeed out of it as well, I demand a certain amount of respect. I'm aware of your circumstance, but surely you know you are not the only student here to have suffered misfortune, and it is no excuse. Perhaps you think that, because you are a member of my own house, that you will be more easily forgiven. I am here to inform you are mistaken, as I am very likely to be harsher on that account. I expect there to be no cause or occasion for me to repeat myself," he all but threatened.  
  
"I honestly didn't mean any disrespect," she replied. "I assure you, I do respect you, and I don't presume to be superior to you in any way, really. But I won't cower like the rest. I'm not another trembling Malfoy riding your robe tails and begging your approval. And I happen to think your prejudice for Harry and his friends is a little unprofessional of you, and I don't mind saying so."

The trio behind the door almost gasped in unison.  
  
Snape glowered at her. "You know absolutely nothing about my relationship with any of the other students and so are in no position to criticism me for it," he hissed. The two stared at each other for several tense seconds. "At least do not undermine my authority in front of the others," he said at last, almost defeatedly.  
  
"You have my word, professor."  
  
He then, almost reluctantly, produced a small vial filled with a pale blue liquid from the folds of his robe which Saryn took very gratefully, sighing as though with relief as she stowed it in her own pocket. Behind the door, Hermione narrowed her eyes in intrigue and chewed her bottom lip.  
  
"I assume the serum is working?" he asked.  
  
"Perfectly, thank you, professor."

He nodded, then did not so much dismiss her as turn his back and begin to ignore her.  
  
" _What_ are you three _doing?_ "  
  
The spies jumped simultaneously, bouncing off one another not unlike the three stooges, all eventually ending up on the floor in the most ungraceful positions. Draco Malfoy was chuckling at them in his cruel, condescending way. He had obviously come back to fetch Saryn. No one had time to stammer an excuse, as she suddenly emerged from the room. To their surprise, Draco did not betray their presence to her, but instead looked pointedly at Harry as he slipped his arm familiarly around the girl's waist and pulled her in for a light but lingering kiss. Harry felt more murderous towards him than usual, and if Ron hadn't been sitting on him, he just might have done something foolish. However, Saryn seemed to tolerate it all very well. She even smiled at Draco and took his arm, and Draco threw Harry one last triumphant sneer before leading his prize to dinner.

 

***

  
  
Draco was slightly disturbed by Saryn's behavior in Potions. What was she thinking, speaking to the professor like that? As he watched her over his cauldron, he resolved to have another word with her. Hadn't he already warned her about those kinds of people? Surely she realized any typical, self-respecting Slytherin would not only have left Granger to her own devices, but actually would have delighted in Snape's decision... _not_ play saviour. But if Draco had surmised one thing since she had arrived, it was that Saryn wasn't typical, and he sensed something conniving, almost malicious beneath her placid exterior. It was wildly erotic. Who knows, perhaps she had something in mind, like sabotaging their potions. Now,  _that_ would be gloriously Slytherin-esque.  
  
After class had ended, Saryn had asked Draco to take her books and things back to the common room so that they could proceed directly to dinner after Snape had 'said his piece'. Though Draco resented being bossed around, no matter how sweetly or tactfully, he deemed it worthwhile. So long as she relied on him, he obviously didn't have to worry about competition, and with the exception of her little remark in the corridors before class, she generally refrained from causing him any public humiliation. Besides, every boy in school was madly jealous of him, which was delicious.

The true icing on the cake was the way it obviously irked Harry Potter. He'd seen those green eyes, full of yearning, drift inevitably over at them during meals and while in the corridors. He had to admit, he didn't exactly like the idea of her spending the rest of the term at his table in Potions, but with Weasley and Granger between them, he wasn't too worried. Besides, Harry Potter simply didn't seem like Saryn's type.  
  
Draco wasn't too worried, even though he and Saryn had yet to _seriously_ snog. But then, she had only been there a week, and that problem would likely be solved soon as he was planning something unforgettable for their first visit to Hogsmeade together that weekend. He could see it now: an early evening candlelight picnic, a box of Honeydukes finest chocolate, a bottle of wine pilfered from Rosmerta's...she'd be putty in his hands.  
  
Draco was fully envisioning this evening on his way back to Potions to retrieve his trophy, was actually so intent on this that he hardly noticed the 'Holy Trinity' crouched by the door of the classroom until he was practically on top of them. The looks on their faces when he spoke! It was quite gratifying to see Potter flat of his stomach with Weasley perched atop him like a startled chimp. Those three had always been too nosy for their own good. What a perfect opportunity to rub his relationship with Saryn in Potter's face.  
  
"You seem in an awfully good mood," Saryn remarked on their way to the Great Hall.  
  
"What boy wouldn't be with a beautiful girl like you on his arm?" Draco said, following the remark with the most debonair smile he could muster.  
  
"Hmm," was her only reply.  
  
"So, did Snape give you some more serum?" he ventured. Though she hadn't seemed to pick up on anything for several days, Draco still wasn't certain he entirely trusted her.  
  
"He did, but I hate taking it on an empty stomach, and you know how it disorients me. So I hope you don't mind escorting me to my room after lunch and picking up any homework for me from our afternoon class."

Draco sighed.  
  
"No problem at all," he said, trying to sound convincing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the existing chapters are unedited and unbeta'd

Chapter Three  
  
_~_  
First he loved my accent  
How his knees could bend  
~  
  
"Harry! How many chocolate frogs are you _getting_?"  
  
"Shh, Hermione, he's sharing...right, Harry?"  
  
"What? Sure, Ron. Is that all you can carry?" Harry asked distractedly as he grabbed a second bag of Every Flavor Beans.  
  
Of course Ron could carry more, if..."Here, Hermione, hold these."  
  
Hermione made a disgruntled noise as she struggled to catch the stray frogs slipping from atop of the mountain of candy that was being dumped into her reluctant arms. "Harry," she said from somewhere behind them, "Harry, is there any _reason_ why you are buying out Honeyduke's?"  
  
"I like chocolate," was his unconvincing reply as they heaved the goodies onto the counter. The girl at the register gave Harry a very odd look. He shrugged and repeated, rather more shyly, "I like chocolate."  
  
They left the shop with no fewer than three large bags laden with various treats. Harry had spent more on candy in the past ten minutes than Ron's family had spent on all his fifth year school texts combined.  
  
"Harry," Hermione ventured in a concerned voice. "Are you alright? I mean, there's nothing you want to talk about is there?"  
  
Ron groaned and rolled his eyes at her, already tearing into what he considered his share of the candy as Harry advanced several steps ahead of them. A thin, chocolate, frog leg protruding from his lips was still twitching slightly when he spoke. "Hermione, why do you _always_ feel the need to question good fortune?"  
  
"Just because you're blinded by free treats, doesn't mean I am." she snapped. "Something's obviously wrong, and has been ever since the arrival of that...that..." She trailed off, perhaps thinking it better not to hash this argument in the middle of the main path through Hogsmead.  
  
"Harry's fine," Ron insisted. "He just has a bit of a sweet tooth, he told you so himself. And he'll tell you again, right, Harry? Harry? Hey! where are you off to?"  
  
Harry was proceeding determinedly towards Hogwarts. "I'm going back to the common room." he said.  
  
"What? Without having one single mug of butterbeer at Rosmerta's? But we haven't even set foot in Zonko's! And I wanted to find something really nasty so I could get back at Fred for..."  
  
"You go ahead," Harry interrupted. "You don't have to follow me back."  
  
"I told you something was wrong!" Hermione hissed beside Ron, who was looking after his retreating friend in undisguised bafflement. Ron and Hermione exchanged a worried look. "Oi there, Harry. Wait up! You're right. It'll take us all night to open all these frogs. And hey, if we come across a Matilda Munkshank, d'ya mind if I keep it? I traded mine to Dean for Lemmy Gurkins."  
  
" _Who_?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Lemmy Gurkins," Ron responded as though it were a household name. "One time keeper and former coach of the Chudley Cannons, leading them through their first undefeated season in half a century. Member of the International Association of Quidditch Hall of Fame and one of my _personal_ heroes."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and jogged to keep up with the two.  
  
An hour later Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in Gryffindor, and between them the small study table had been transformed into a writhing, twitching mound of chocolate. After the first dozen or so they had abandoned the idea of eating what they opened and now just set the enchanted candy free in the common room. Empty boxes littered the floor.  
  
"Who's that?"  
  
"Derwent Shimply," Harry read aloud in answer. "Often considered the world's funniest wizard, Derwent once ate an entire venomous tentacula plant on a dare. He survived, but his face may forever remain purple." Harry and Ron looked at each other, then simultaneously nodded and Derwent went in the 'keeper' pile.  
  
"Sacharrissa Tugwood." Ron said dodging Sacharrissa's accompanying frog. "The first person to use magic for cosmetic purposes. Discovered the acne curing properties of bubotuber pus. Her tombstone reads: Thanks to Sacharissa the world is a more beautiful place." Ron raised his eyebrow.  
  
"Naw," they uttered in unison. Sacharrisa was tossed aside, narrowly missing Hermione. "Really," she said with a shake of her head. "How old are you two again?"  
  
"I'll have you know I'm a serious collector." Ron said lifting his chin. "It's an investment, Hermione. Why, one day these might be worth a fair stack of Galleons. Besides...they're educational. I'm surprised you don't collect them yourself."  
  
"If I want to know something about famous witches and wizards, I'll go to the library."  
  
"You do that anyway." Ron said in exasperation. "Besides, hopping candy makes it all much more interesting."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and handed Ron another unopened frog.  
  
"Hey look, Harry! It's one of you."  
  
  
Harry James Potter  
aka  
The Boy Who Lived  
  
Harry is perhaps most renowned for being the only known  
survivor of the unforgivable _killing curse_ and is widely thought responsible for the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a feat made even more astonishing by the fact that he was a mere one year old at the time.  
  
More recently, in his first year at Hogwarts School of  
Witchcraft and Wizardry, Potter added to his notoriety  
by becoming the youngest Quidditch player of the last  
hundred years.  
  
"It must be kinda old. You've done tons more stuff than that since then. " Ron pointed out. "But then they'd probably have to space it all over at least a few cards." Harry groaned. He hated his 'notoriety.'  
  
Hermione took it from Ron and turned it over to reveal a very young Harry in scarlet Quidditch robes, cheesing at them, snitch in hand.  
  
"Y'know, I forget you're famous half of the time." Ron said as he examined it. "I mean...you're Harry. Not 'Harry James Potter'. It's weird seeing you on a card."  
  
"It's weird _being_ on a card," Harry replied. "But I suppose I should be used to it. At least now I pretty much know as much about myself as the rest of the world does." He pocketed the card with a sigh. Saryn hadn't known him. She had talked to him and had liked him and it had nothing whatsoever to do with his fame, or reputation. She had like him for his own sake. And they had so much in common: both orphaned, both raised in the muggle world. She _had_ liked him hadn't she? And she knew all about him now, right? No doubt Malfoy had filled her in. Ha! Harry was sure _that_ must have been a fair description. Maybe he should give her his card. Harry had a sudden image of himself sauntering up to Saryn with a debonair smile and a wink, speaking in a voice reminiscent of one Prof. Lockhart: _"Here's my card, I signed it, free of charge. Call me."_  
  
"Look at this," Hermione said bringing Harry back to reality. She had given in and was shucking the cards as well. She showed her find to her companions.  
  
"Hey, she looks just like the new girl." Ron said, as always, master of the obvious. "Definitely got the same hair."  
  
Harry took it from them. A much older version of Saryn stared at him with the same knowing expression.  
  
Mariyn Sylvany 1843-1955  
Auror and world famous Seer. Besides helping bring an end to the dark wizard Grindlewold's following, her visions saved many lives by accurately predicting, not only the Swedish Goblin uprising of 1867, but also the Weasel Pox epidemic of 1902.  
  
"The granddaughter of an Auror...in Slytherin? How strange..." Hermione had 'that look'...the one she always got before tearing off to the library without a word of explanation. But before she had a chance, Harry rose to leave himself.  
  
"Y'know guys," he said, the sullenness he had hoped to cure with chocolate returned to his voice, "I think I'm going to go for a few around the pitch."  
  
"But, Harry, we still have a whole other bag to open."  
  
"Maybe tomorrow," He said making his way toward the staircase. Hermione elbowed Ron impatiently.  
  
"Eh, want me to come too? I saw this great new move over the summer. Charlie took us all to watch the Holyhead Harpies/ Wimbourne Wasps match. And the Wasps' seeker, Harry, you wouldn't believe this thing he did. It looked like a Wronski feint but then he suddenly..."  
  
"Really Ron, Hermione. I understand you guys are trying to cheer me up. But I just have some things on my mind and need some time alone. I'll be okay."  
  
Without waiting for an answer Harry went upstairs to retrieved his Firebolt. He didn't even bother passing back through the common room, but instead swung wide the large dormitory windows and flew out of them, descending in a slow, graceful spiral to the earth below. Flying a few feet above the ground he allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts as he watched his shadow glide beside him on the green grass. The sun would soon set, but was still high enough to warm him, yet low enough to glare, annoyingly unavoidable. For this reason Harry kept his eyes lowered and hooded, for this reason he didn't see her until he was already too close to slip away unnoticed.  
  
Sitting in the very center of the Quidditch field was Saryn, back to the sun, staring up at the towering bleachers. It seemed strange seeing her there. With few exceptions, Harry rarely saw her in the daylight. It was always the Potions dungeon or darkened corridors that he saw when he thought of her, where she was the brightest object in view. Seeing her in the warm rays of the sun seemed somehow...tragic. Like seeing the full moon in the mid-afternoon sky, perfect still but paled, it's beauty wronged by the contending brilliance of the sun, deserving instead the inky expanse of midnight to accentuate it's unsurpassing glory. Taming his butterflies, Harry dismounted and strolled over to her.  
  
"Hello, Saryn. I'm surprised to see you here."  
  
"I'd never been here," she shrugged. "I didn't have anything else to do, so I decided to come have a look."  
  
"You didn't go into Hogsmead?"  
  
"Well, I wanted a little time to myself"  
  
"I'm sorry, am I bothering you? I can go," Harry said quickly.  
  
"No no, stay. I suppose what I should have said was I wanted a little time away from Draco."  
  
Harry almost stopped breathing in the face of the surge of hope that swelled in him at that remark. _You have your chance. Say something...don't just stand here like an idiot._  
  
When the silence had become almost uncomfortable, she spoke. "It's all so very...Massive. Do you really play all the way up there?" she asked pointing a finger skyward. Harry nodded.  
  
"But aren't you afraid you might, well, fall off?"  
  
"It happens," he replied with a shrug "In fact it's happened to me a couple of times." She appeared absolutely horrified "But it's not all that bad. I mean, I'm still here. Once you get up there it's not scary. Actually it's really quite liberating." Saryn didn't seem to have much faith in that comment....  
  
_Am I really doing this? No your not...your standing, staring at her like a moron...C'mon!_ The question wanted desperately to escape his lips _. Relax, be suave...just ask her!_  
  
"So...have you ever been on a broom?  
  
"Oh no," she said emphatically  
  
"Would you like to go for a spin? Really, unless you suddenly lose consciousness or something, there's nothing to be afraid of."  
  
Saryn bit her lower lip and eyed the Firebolt, obviously very tempted.  
  
He mounted the broom and held it low for her to do the same. "Come on. I'll be right here beside you."  
  
"And that thing will carry us both?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
After a few more seconds of deliberation, she was on her feet. "But I'm wearing a skirt."  
  
"Then ride sidesaddle"  
  
"And your certain you won't let me fall?"  
  
"Come here," he said, politely taking her hand to help her onto the broom. He reached an arm around either side of her and grasped hold of the broom in front of them both. Saryn had to wrap her arm around Harry's shoulder to allow him to lean forward and hold the broom, and his face was deliciously close to her collarbone. He was suddenly really very dizzy. Everything seemed to lose substance...except the presence of her. He was so close he could smell the scent of her freshly laundered robes, the aroma of her skin, the perfume of her hair. Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all.  
  
"See," he managed to say. "All snug."  
  
"All snug," she repeated. They looked at each other for the longest time...  
  
_Do something!_  
  
Harry swallowed hard. There were a dozen somethings Harry wanted to do, but in the end he did none of them and instead kicked off, pointing them toward the heavens. As soon as his feet left the ground Harry knew he was going to be just fine. The familiar surge of confidence he always felt when flying swept away all uncertainties. He was in complete control...of himself...of the situation. Saryn grasped desperately at his collar, almost choking him. But when he leveled off and began a few slow laps around the field she relaxed, releasing him altogether to twist this way and that looking at everything below and around them. It seemed she had forgotten Harry entirely, until she turned and gave him the sweetest fascinated smile.  
  
This was wonderful! To see her so happy and know that he, Harry, had caused it. But it was nicer when she had had her arm around him he thought with a frown. A mischievous thought floated through Harry's mind... without warning he suddenly threw the broom into a steep, speedy dive. Saryn gasped and clung to him fiercely. He executed a few masterful loops before bring the broom again to a halt.  
  
" _Don't_ do that!" she commanded, giggling despite herself. Harry was grinning from ear to ear and couldn't help but laugh at her. The danger had passed, but she still clung to him, one arm around his waist clutching at the small of his back, the other hand twined around his neck. Harry could feel her heart pound beneath the swell of the small breasts pressed against him, crushing closer with each deep breath. Without thinking Harry brought his hand off the broom to slip it around Saryn's tiny beveled waist and pull her even closer to him. His heart was pounding in his chest. The rays of the setting sun on her hair ignited a fiery halo around them as her impossibly long tresses swirled about them in the warm breeze. Time stood still.  
  
Harry wondered if first kisses were always so sweet. He was convinced that had it been any more exquisite he might have died of it. Her lips were like velvet on his, warm and yielding....Harry lost all sense of where he was and of himself, conscious of nothing but where they two touched...  
  
It was she who broke away...Had to be, for if left up to Harry the kiss would have lasted through tomorrow morning. Harry nuzzled at her face, unwilling to separate so soon. "So...how do you like flying?" he asked to her cheek.  
  
She grinned. "I think I could grow very accustomed to it." She sighed and despite his reluctance she pulled back. "Isn't this a tad unseemly? A Slytherin and a Gryffindor snogging on the Quidditch field? Whatever will our friends think?" she asked in a way that plainly said she couldn't care less.  
  
"Who says they have to know?" Harry grinned.  
  
"Ooo. A secret love affair."  
  
_...Love Affair..._  
  
Lifting her lithe fingers to smooth the raven strands from his forehead, she gazed at Harry dreamily, large brown eyes resting on his scar. "The famous Harry Potter. I'm a lucky girl."  
  
"Special, most definitely...but lucky? I'm not exactly in high demand."  
  
"I can't imagine why."  
  
"I think maybe all the girls here are terrified to be close to me. I suppose it _is_ dangerous, risking getting caught in the crossfire. Or perhaps no one wants to get too attached to me just in case Voldemort succeeds in killing me one of these years." He said lightly, but he couldn't hide the weariness in his voice.  
  
She snuggled closer to him, if that was possible, and gave him a playful smile. "I like a little danger. It makes life much more interesting don't you think? But are _you_ certain about this? You never know. I might turn out to be more perilous than a host of Dark Lords." Harry didn't doubt it for an instant.  
  
"I'll take my chances," he said leaning in for another kiss.  
  
They stayed out until long after dark when Harry, fearing someone would eventually come looking for them, lowered them back down to earth. Their goodbye was prolonged and reluctant and several times voiced before it was finally achieved. Harry lay in bed for hours replaying the evening in his mind's eye, memorizing every detail before succumbing to dreams of velvet kisses and mid-afternoon moonlight.  
  
***  
The letter had come unexpectedly as Draco was making his way back to Slytherin from Hogsmead. He had hated going without Saryn, but had thought it might be a nice opportunity to pick up a gift for her. Though, there was little in the small wizarding village Draco felt lived up to his discerning and expensive standards. After a long and disappointing search, he bought a couple of candles from Zonko's whose flames changed colors with one's mood. They were a bit novel, but subtle and subdued enough not to be tacky. Then he stopped into Rosmerta's where he managed to summon a tasteful and very pricey bottle of red wine while the lovely barkeep was distracted. He was heading back to the school with his modest finds when the Malfoy family owl came swooping before him. Looking quickly to see that no one was around, Draco motioned for the bird to follow him to a less conspicuous spot off the main path where he relieved it of its burdens. He opened the letter immediately. It was in his father's distinguished hand:  
  
_Draco, it has come to my attention that Slytherin house has had a rather recent, rather...unusual new addition. The girl's circumstances are well known to me, and my associates._  
  
"Great," thought Draco glancing at the wine bottle under his arm. "He's probably heard she's muggle raised and wants to warn me not to sully our reputation." He read on with dread.  
  
_You are to be very sensitive to her situation. This is no doubt a confusing and impressionable time for her. Attempt to indoctrinate her to the mentality of her house, as no doubt her muggle upbringing has put her at a disadvantage. Also, it would be very propitious should you succeed in winning the girl's affections. See that she feels accepted and otherwise provided for. No desire, regardless of expense, should be ignored. Enclosed is a gift you might present when it is timely, and extend to her an invitation to spend the upcoming holidays here at Malfoy Manor. I trust you will not disappoint me._  
  
Draco blinked at the note he held. He had just been instructed, practically ordered, to woo Saryn...even at the expense of the entire family fortune. He fumbled to open the accompanying parcel. Draco could hardy believe his eyes. Wrapped in immaculate black velvet was a small box containing a very beautiful silver pendant necklace encrusted with green jewels. He held it up to examine it. Two intricately fashioned snakes twined around each other, jade marked the pattern on their backs and their eyes were denoted by four fiery emeralds. It reminded Draco of something he'd once seen in his father's study. No doubt it was priceless. Draco was a little embittered by the fact that his father could give a complete stranger such a thing when Draco had had to beg for months to get his new model broomstick.  
  
The owl, who had been waiting all this while in a nearby tree, hooted and ruffled it's feathers.  
  
"Go on," he instructed, "I'll write Father when I return to the castle." In a moment it was gone and Draco stood for a long while staring at where it had disappeared into the rays of the setting sun.  
  
There was no answer at Saryn's door when Draco knocked, and while this was not unusual it was disappointing. He wondered if she were out or simply ignoring him.  
  
"It's a bit soon for a gift like this, and I should write Father anyway, while Crabbe and Goyle are still out," he thought aloud to himself making his way back to his room. His two friends had thankfully kept their distance since Draco set his mind on winning Saryn. Though, Draco had a feeling it was more out of confusion and probably hurt feelings than understanding, as neither of them had yet discovered, or really seem all that interested in, the wonders of the opposite sex. He made a point of giving them treats from his personal stash, which, as much as he enjoyed knowing he had a bag full of sweets under his bed all his own, he wasn't really a sweets kind of person, so he typically gave them those things that were a week from being inedible (they never chewed them long enough to taste them or really tell the difference) and they shared a few remarks about their mutual hatreds from behind their bed curtains before drifting off to sleep, and this kept them placated and loyal and bought him plenty of space. And so, they were out still, the evening being fairly young.  
  
Draco stowed the necklace in a secret compartment in his trunk at the foot of his bed and sat at his desk, jet black raven's quill already in hand.  
  
_The girl's conquest is well underway_ he wrote. _When it is timely I shall present her with your generous gift and extend to her your invitation. I would rather wait until I'm certain they won't be refused. Miss Sylvany is quickly becoming accustomed to our values and expectations, with my assistance of course. I shall write you again when she accepts. You can rely on me, Father._  
  
Could he really? Draco certainly hoped so. Though, he'd learned long ago never to express any signs of weakness or doubt to his father. This was so unlike him. He didn't doubt himself, he was a Malfoy! Still, it was different with her. All his life his name had either incited malice or admiration, and typically any who seemed indifferent to his heritage were not counted by him to be worthy of consideration. But the fact that his name and affiliations meant nothing to Saryn one way or the other caused unwelcome turmoil in the boy. And now that she was obviously very important to his father, for some reason he still could not grasp, the pressure piled higher.  
  
He rallied his confidence, he didn't have anything to be worried about, really. After all, he was Draco Malfoy.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
_~_  
And you would if I would  
But you never would

~  
  
The next morning Harry all but skipped to the Great Hall for breakfast. And as he slid in to his usual spot opposite Ron and Hermione, he offered them the first genuine smile they'd seen in days.  
  
"Good Morning," he beamed.  
  
"Morning," Hermione returned rather reluctantly. Ron only moaned.  
  
"Alright there, Ron?" Harry asked, noticing his friend looking uncharacteristically pale.  
  
"He'll be all right," Hermione assured, shaking her head at Ron. "He tried to finish off the frogs you opened last night."  
  
"Well it seemed a shame to leave them all just lying there," he groaned. "Besides, isn't chocolate supposed to be good for you?"  
  
"Well, in moderation when attacked by dark forces, but not by the pound when you are perfectly well. Honestly, Ron." She turned to Harry. "You seem in higher spirits this morning."  
  
"Well...er...I found a bit of...comfort at the pitch last night."  
  
"Good," she nodded curtly. "I'm glad you've finally accepted the fact that that Sylvany girl doesn't want to have anything to do with you."  
  
Harry didn't suppress his shock.  
  
"Harry, I've been one of your best friends for 5 years. You think I can't tell what's been bothering you? You'd do well to steer clear of her anyway. Even if she isn't a 'typical' Slytherin, she seems awfully close to Malfoy, so you obviously can't trust her taste in company. Personally, if she _had_ shown interest in I'd wonder just what she thinks you're actually like. I mean, if she knew you at all she'd know you wouldn't get mixed up with those kinds of people."  
  
"You're probably right, Hermione. I appreciate it." He said when her tirade had ended. He decided to play along. This clearly wasn't the time for confessions.  
  
Hermione adopted the same relieved expression she always wore when she felt she had succeeded in talking some sense into her illogical companions. Thoroughly self-satisfied, she concentrated on her meal.  
  
Harry turned to do the same, when he felt something strike his leg and fall to the floor. He glanced down and saw a folded piece of parchment lying beside his foot, and then he glanced over at the Slytherin table and saw Saryn had slipped in. She gave him a subtle wink and returned her attention to Malfoy who was speaking very animatedly, and quite obliviously, beside her. Harry was just about to bend down and retrieve the note when Ron spoke.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
Harry looked up abruptly to catch Ron curiously peering over the edge of the table and then ducking to look beneath. Harry placed his foot over the parchment just in time.  
  
"What was what?" Hermione asked.  
  
"I was sitting here trying to ignore my eggs when I saw something fly at Harry." Hermione cocked her head and looked at Harry  
  
"Must have been a bug," he said nervously.  
  
"Didn't look like a bug. It was really big if it was." Ron insisted.  
  
"You aren't feeling well, Ron, you must be seeing things."  
  
"Since when do stomachaches induce hallucinations?" Ron retorted. Hermione rolled her eyes. Just then Harry's spoon went clattering to the floor.  
  
"Oops, silly me." He mumbled, bending to retrieve it. He scooped up the note with the spoon and slid it into the pocket of his robes before straightening to face his friends. Hermione wasn't paying any attention to him, but Ron was eyeing him in mild suspicion.  
  
Harry finished his breakfast in record time. "Well, he said pushing back his plate. "I have a bit of homework to finish up for professor Binns. Ron, you wanna head out to the pitch after and show me that new move?"  
  
"Alright," Ron replied rather sulkily. Without further excuses Harry strode swiftly from the Hall, waiting until he'd rounded the corner into an empty corridor on the way to Gryffindor Tower before fishing the note from his pocket.  
  
His heart hammered in his chest and he actually smelled the paper before unfolding it with shaking fingers.  
  
_Meet me in the abandoned observation tower tonight after everyone's gone to bed._  
  
It was signed in vivid scarlet lipstick in the exact impression of Saryn's full cupid's bow lips. Harry smiled to himself and felt his cheeks flush, recalling the electric sensation of those red lips brushing his own.  
  
***  
  
"Draco, dearest, it really is quite late." Draco mocked under his breath as he threw himself on his bed like a pouting toddler. Every night for the past week it had been the same; Saryn had shooed him away with only a kiss on the cheek and no explanation other than the late hour. Draco was becoming increasingly impatient. She didn't object to hanging on his arm all day or dragging him about as if on a leash until nightfall, when they might be able to find some intimate time together in her conveniently private room. But no, as soon as the dormitories grew quiet he was expelled with promises to meet for breakfast or after to walk to class together. _Of course...she needs me to carry her books._  
  
Draco opened the trunk at the foot of his bed. And gazed frustratedly at the still corked wine bottle there and the unlit mood candles. The necklace his father had sent had been returned to his shirt pocket where he felt it safest. It wasn't that Draco was losing interest, despite her behaviour. It was quite the opposite. The fact that she didn't simper and fawn like most girls had caused something to grow in Draco that he never thought he'd feel for a potential romantic conquest: respect. And because of that he would have remained persistent even if his father hadn't lain such expectations on him. But his father had. And because he had Draco felt more urgency was needed than might be wise in this situation. Everyday Draco expected an owl from him demanding a progress report. When he learned Draco had yet to reach second base he would be very put out. But then, his father wouldn't learn that...because Draco would never admit it to him.  
  
Draco took hold of the wine bottle and had half a mind to open it. Getting exceptionally drunk seemed like a very good idea.

Did Saryn think they were still in grammar school passing notes and holding hands in private? Hell, even in grammar school he'd done much more than that. He threw the bottle back in the trunk and slammed it closed, waking one of his trollish roommates.  
  
"Go back to sleep Goyle." No sooner had the command passed his lips than did Goyle's gurgling snores resume.  
  
Just how long did she think he'd tolerate her coldness to his advances? Well he refused to be a lap dog any longer! he promised himself, slamming his fist into his open palm. He was going to go right this instant, waking her from her beauty sleep if need be, and demand to know where he stood.  
  
He strode resolutely down the hall of the girl's dormitories coming to a tentative halt before Saryn's door. This was it. It was now or never. With a deep breath and a determined nod, he stepped confidently forward and raised his fist to knock, but before his knuckles came in contact with the wood his toe hit the door and it swung open. The room was dark within.  
  
"Saryn," he whispered urgently. But there was no answer. He fished for his wand.  
  
_"Lumos"_  
  
A pale blue light erupted from the end of his wand and illuminated the room. There was her bed, still made, and elsewhere there was no sign of her, and in the small room there was really nowhere for her to hide. A noise behind him made him instinctively extinguish his wand and turn. He crept toward the common room. In the dim illumination of the dying fire Draco spied movement near the secret passage. _Someone was sneaking out._ And Draco had a sneaking suspicion he knew who it was.  
  
Before the stones concealing the passage rematerialized, Draco was through them, leaping to the nearby shadows as the midnight marauder only yards from him stopped and seemed to be listening intently for the sound of pursuit. Of course, this was not Draco's first past curfew venture, and he was amazingly adept at not getting caught...at least when those he stalked did not possess psychic abilities. After a moment, however, she continued hurriedly on her way with Draco on her heels.  
  
She lead him to an abandoned observatory tower, one of a handful, which Draco recognized to be Snogger's Peek. It was once a favorite site for clandestine rendezvous by hormonal couples, but because of tight patrolling once upon a time it had been abandoned for safer hideaways. However, apparently confident in their past success, security was once again lax.  
  
At the top of the tower steps before the observatory doors, Draco's guide stopped and after a quick glance at the shadows, pulled off her cloak and shook out her luxurious red waves. Once primped, she gave a soft rap in a sort of code and the handle turned with a creek.  
  
"Whoever it is," Draco thought, "I'll slaughter him. I'll find the most wretched curse in existence and blast him into incurable and eternal misery. By God, he'd better be at least as handsome as me, if not as rich."  
  
As Draco was imagining several fates worse than death, the door swung open revealing...  
  
_Harry Potter._  
  
Harry Potter was smiling broadly and wrapping _his_ , Draco's, girlfriend in a warm embrace. Harry Potter was _kissing_ her! Draco almost lost his balance, but caught himself before stumbling from the concealing shadows into the candlelight spilling from the open door. Half a dozen candles burned within on a table beside two bottles of pumpkin juice.  
  
As Draco stared dumbfounded, the door closed, leaving him alone in the dark hall.  
  
Of all people...And he was serving her pumpkin juice for Merlin's sake! By god, Draco had Merlot in his dorm and a small fortune in his pocket and she's with St. Potter in Snogger's Peek sucking down pumpkin juice?!  
  
His hatred for the boy boiled to new heights.

Well, he's not going to get away with this.

He wouldn't curse Potter, Draco decided. He wouldn't even confront them. He'd do something worse...he'd win Saryn away from Harry. He need only be more aggressive. Time to make _her_ respect _him_. And come Christmas he and Saryn would be curled together wearing nothing but tinsel in front of the fireplace in Malfoy Manor.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five  
~  
_You've got to give something sometimes_  
When you're the sweetest cherry  
In an apple pie  
~  
  
  
The next day Draco was considerably colder, if no less responsive, to Saryn's minor requests. And Draco could tell, though she said nothing, that she noted this change and thankfully didn't respond to it by cranking up the saccharin. All in all, the day passed like many before it, with Draco offering his arm and carrying her things. But that evening, when she began to say her good nights and offer the same paltry excuses, Draco decided to change the routine and stopped at the door, turning his back to it.  
  
"Did you sleep well last night?"  
  
Saryn eyed him curiously and then responded quite naturally, "Surprisingly so."  
  
"I'm sure." He said sardonically  
  
"And yourself?"  
  
Draco visibly noted but did not answer her question. "You must get more rest than anyone I've ever met. And here I thought, from our first encounter, that you were a night owl."  
  
"Well, first impressions can be misleading," she countered. She appeared to have picked up on his ruse and seemed to dislike being subject to it. "You see, I thought you were a prattish, spoiled elitist. But now I realize you aren't nearly as pratty as I suspected."  
  
"How kind."  
  
"Now, if you will excuse me, it is that time."  
  
"No, I don't think I will."  
  
"Will _what_?" she asked in indignant disbelief.  
  
"Excuse you, or myself from your presence. I think I'm going to be selfish tonight and deprive you of a little beauty sleep. Merlin knows you don't really need it." Draco raised an eyebrow and studied her from head to toe as he said this, following with a fetching, flirtatious smile. The compliment softened her demeanor a bit.  
  
"And what makes you think I'll allow that?"  
  
"A feeling."  
  
"A feeling?" she asked cynically. "Where, in your heart of hearts?"  
  
"Well, no actually. In my pants pocket." Draco responded smoothly, or as smoothly as such a comment can be made.  
  
Saryn gave an acrimonious curl of the lip and raised her eyebrow. "Oh _really_ , in your pants?" Draco smiled wickedly. She was playing right into his hands.  
  
"Yes. In fact, why don't you slip those pretty fingers of yours in my pocket and feel for yourself?" Saryn clucked her tongue and reached for her hair brush, step one in her nightly pre-bed ritual.  
  
"Really, Draco," she said into the mirror at him as she drew it through her impressive locks. "You should know me well enough by now-"  
  
"-Should I?-"

She pursed her lips and continued, "-to know I don't respond well to crudeness. I honestly thought you had more class than that."  
  
Draco brought a hand to his heart in mock offense. "Crudeness? You hurt me..." He reached into his pocket and withdrew the necklace his father had sent, dangling it in her direction. "...does this look crude to you?" The disapproving impatience in her expression turned to lustful awe and she gasped, pivoting to face him, eyes prone on the treasure in his hand.  
  
"Well, would you like it? Or shall I return it? Or perhaps Pansy is more keen on jewelry than you are." She narrowed her eyes at that comment but seemed more intrigued than put out.  
  
"Is that really for me?" she asked coquettishly.  
  
"Well it certainly doesn't suit _me_ , it's a bit too fancy."  
  
She reached her hand for it and started to advance, but Draco pulled it back and slipped it back inside his pocket and she threw him a frustrated pout.  
  
"Well, do you want it or not?" he asked, crossing his arms and leaning back on the door.  
  
Saryn regarded him for a long while. She had apparently underestimated the boy. Draco doubted Potter was capable of such mischievous subterfuge, but sensed Saryn was a very sensual being, and very sly herself, and as he had expected, she related to and responded well to his ploy. She seemed, now, to actually be enjoying it. Though Draco suspected she wasn't nearly so tempted by his gift as she was by his challenge. _Draco, you are a genius_ he praised himself. She gave him a devious smile and gracefully swished over to where he stood, locking eyes with him as she worked her hand to the depths of his pocket. Then her eyes widened ever so slightly. It was all Draco could do to refrain from reacting. As both of them knew she would, she encountered more there than the necklace, though obviously she had underestimated him on more counts than one. Draco knew he was, proportionally, large for his size and build; no porn star, but definitely well endowed, and while he was not exactly 'proud' of the fact so to say, he was realistically quite confident. Something quickened in Saryn, and her cheeks flushed, and she seemed to withdraw her hand only reluctantly. Draco took the necklace from her, eyes still locked, then gently guided her by the shoulders to turn so he could clasp it for her. She took it in her hand and studied it, evidently very impressed.  
  
"It's past your bedtime. You must be exhausted," Draco teased when he was finished with it. "I suppose I should go."  
  
She rounded on him. "Go?" she asked in her familiar, subtlety authoritative tone. "You aren't going anywhere, Draco dear." And she slipped an arm up to rest on his shoulder, hand cradling the back of his neck. Draco was absolutely eating up her expression and decided to play the situation for all it was worth.  
  
"Really? And what if I'm tired myself? Just what do you think should inspire me to stay?"  
  
"Oh, you want _inspiration_?" She gave herself fully to his wiles and placed a hand lightly on each of his hips before sinking very slowly to her knees. _Draco, my boy, you have hit the jackpot._ With artfulness Draco always suspected she possessed, she carefully undid the button and unzipped his trousers with her teeth. He felt the pressure on his erection ease off and was bracing himself for what was next, but she only rose again, and reached up to undo the buttons of his shirt under his tie. Draco was slightly disappointed.  
  
"We're to get naked then?"  
  
"No, you're to get naked."  
  
"Oh well that doesn't seem quite fair. And besides, I'm sorta shy y'know." Saryn rolled her eyes at him as if to say 'don't play this game with me, I wrote the rulebook.' and took his tie in a firm grasp.  
  
"You need inspiration. Well so do I." She pulled him down into their first real kiss. And what a kiss! It was not passionate or hungry, but deep and slow and artfully erotic. Draco thought he might explode on her skirt if lasted much longer. But as if on cue, it eased back, became soft and playful, so she could again concentrate on undressing him, which slowly but surely she did, trailing kisses down his neck and chest and stomach, chasing after every freshly freed button, until at last she was again on her knees. What followed was an experience Draco will never in his life forget. But then, over the following few days, she didn't give him a chance to.

***  
  
It was 4:00 am before Harry finally decided to leave, a full hour past the time he and Saryn typically parted company, and she had never even shown. Harry anxiously hoped she hadn't been caught in the halls. He, of course, always wore his cloak and at times felt a little selfish for not offering to lend it to her. But then, she didn't have his record with Filch and Snape. At least he hoped she didn't christen one tonight. He couldn't know for sure until morning, and for whatever reason, Harry spent the night alone, fiddling with all the strange mirrored equipment, staring at the cold, lonesome stars, drinking both bottles of butterbeer, and finishing all but one of the cauldron cakes he'd brought. Until tonight he'd never realized how still it was in the observatory without the soft echo of voices and garments rustling as two people moved to embrace, or just how chilly it was without the warmth of another beside him, how the stones seemed to emanate the cold, and he was at least happy to be heading toward his warm blankets with Ron snoring softly in the bed beside him. Rather reluctantly he snuffed the candles and pulled his cloak tight around him, throwing one last disappointed glance at the empty room, and set out for the main part of the castle.  
  
There, still some ways from Gryffindor tower he heard the echo of footsteps down the empty hall and urgent whispers which grew steadily louder and more distinct. Harry quickly stowed himself in the open doorway of an empty classroom and waited.  
  
"The situation is becoming increasingly dangerous, Headmaster."  
  
"Severus, can this not wait until we have reached my office?  
  
"No, Headmaster, I don't think it can!"  
  
Professors Dumbledore and Snape strode suddenly into view from around a corner.  
  
"Let us at least not do this in the middle of the hall," the headmaster suggested, gesturing at the doorway from which Harry was watching them. He almost panicked as he suspected his cloak wasn't as effective with Dumbledore as it was with most. He backed quickly into the shadows and stooped behind a desk as the two professors entered, closing the door behind them. Harry was trapped.  
  
"There was a meeting tonight, a very urgent one, but where and for what purpose I cannot be sure, though I can certainly guess." Snape seemed very agitated, running his fingers through his long greasy hair, and paced in long, stiff strides as he spoke; while Dumbledore stood watching him and speaking with his characteristic patience  
  
"Do they suspect you?"  
  
"No, they trust me, of that much I am sure. But my proximity to the girl compromises the amount of information to which I am privy, despite my assurances that the serum she takes limits her psychic abilities."  
  
"We cannot remove her from Potions, Severus. It is, after all, core curriculum. "  
  
"I am well aware of that, Headmaster. I was merely explaining my impotence. Albus, I don't know the particulars, but I do know the Dark Lord..."  
  
"Do not refer to him as that in my presence, Severus. I consider him no lord," Dumbledore interjected.  
  
"Voldemort, then..."Snape replied impatiently. "What I'm trying to tell you is he is intent, very intent, on laying hands on the girl. And he wants her to come willingly, what's more. That's why he's had Malfoy throw his son at her, which appears to be working surprisingly well."  
  
Malfoy? Comprehension dawned and Harry barely caught the gasp in his throat. _My god. They're talking about Saryn._ So that's what Snape had handed her that day after potions class. A serum to limit psychic abilities Harry didn't realize she possessed. He hadn't thought it polite to ask about it, and then they were getting on so well he had completely forgotten about the incident. Why on earth hadn't she confided this in him before? He put this revelation to the back of his mind and began listening intently to the rest of the Professors' conversation.  
  
"But if that isn't enough I have no doubt he will resort to more drastic measures." Snape continued, coming to a halt and looking the Headmaster in the eye for emphasis. "Albus, he claims he wants what is rightfully his," he practically whispered, "and before she can, as he puts it, be further corrupted by our futile notions of goodness." The Potions master sneered and brought his fingers to his temples as though the situation were causing the most horrendous stress headache. Dumbledore looked thoughtfully to the stone floor.  
  
"Do you think, perhaps, we should tell the girl?" Snape ventured now, "About her parents?" Dumbledore shook his head, but not in negation.  
  
"Personally, I would have done so the day she was placed in my care. It is at her mother's behest that I have refrained. And I intend to respect that wish so long as it is safe to do so, however unwise."  
  
"Does she have so little faith in the girl?" The tone of his voice sounded as though he didn't possess much himself, yet, oddly, wished it weren't so.  
  
"It is not a matter of faith, Severus, but innocence. Because of her heritage, Saryn stands to have a life filled with hardships. Her mother would simply like her to have the opportunity to be young, and to enjoy her youth. And with that, at least, I agree."  
  
Snape nodded, but continued to argue. "Headmaster, we may have little choice. _About_ the serum the girl takes, we _will_ have take her off it soon. Prolonged use will permanently damage her powers, slowly deteriorating them until they disappear completely. And her psychic ability is not the only thing it limits; it lessens all her abilities..." Dumbledore seemed to be considering the implications of this, but Snape helped him along by voicing them.  
  
"Albus, you've seen the kind of power she possesses even on the potion. If she had any inkling of her true potential. Worse, if the Dar...er...Voldemort knew. Can you _imagine_ the damage she could do in his hands? Willing or no? I wouldn't put it past him to chain the girl down and pour veritaserum down her throat, despite his relationship to her."  
  
_Relationship? Voldemort? To Saryn?_  
  
"She'd be an instant oracle, his own private magic mirror...Albus, we could hide _nothing_ from him!" Snape really appeared to be at his wit's end.  
  
"I must think on this. Despite all good intentions a new course must be taken. I will write her mother tonight asking her opinion."  
  
"She should have told the girl herself to begin with."  
  
"Perhaps, Severus. Though you work with children you have none of your own. I imagine it isn't as simple as all that. Regardless, she must be consulted. Learn what you can and keep me informed. And do try to get some rest, Severus, there are classes this morning, after all. This has all taken more of a toll on you than I fear is healthy."  
  
Snape nodded and Dumbledore opened the door, allowing him to pass before disappearing after and gently pulling the door to behind him.  
  
Harry sat on the floor in mild shock. Saryn was psychic. Saryn is connected in some way to Voldemort. Saryn's mother is alive and communicating with Professor Dumbledore. But how much of this did she know, and how much was she withholding from Harry? Her psychic powers, of course. But Voldemort or her mother? How could you be mistaken about losing your mother? Harry felt it was too late to work through it all, though he was certain he would get little sleep. He'd have to talk to Saryn, immediately. Unfortunately immediately was probably not until after potions the day after next, assuming she was absent tomorrow night as well. Confident the coast was clear, he slipped from the room and headed for Gryffindor, though his step was considerably less eager than before.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six  
  
_~  
Things are getting desperate  
When all the boys can't be men  
Everybody knows  
I'm her friend  
Everybody knows  
I'm her man  
~_  
  
The next day Draco was surprised when Saryn didn't request a thing from him. He had actually had to offer aloud to take her bag. She didn't seem timid, just not demanding, and if that wasn't enough, she couldn't keep her hands off him. While before she had frowned on any public displays, now when no one was looking, or perhaps without caring if anyone saw or not, she constantly fondled Draco's small, taught ass, as though she had discovered he had one for the very first time the previous night and couldn't leave it alone. Not that Draco really minded it. Nor did he mind being yanked into empty hallways or abandoned classrooms, or even just in the shadows behind the greenhouse for short but lusty snogging sessions, even though it made them late for charms.  
  
That day he opted that they grab their lunch and picnic on the grounds by the Quidditch field, behind the equipment shed of course, and she readily agreed. But despite a glorious picnic with plenty of kissing and petting for dessert, the inevitable did happen. Though they didn't have class with Gryffindor until the following day in Potions, they met Potter in the hallway as they were heading towards the common room after an intentionally very late supper. What he was doing so close to the dungeons Draco could only suspect. He met the Gryffindor's eyes in open hostility for only a moment, during which Draco made a point of putting his arm around Saryn's shoulder and pulling her close to kiss her on the cheek. But as he had feared, she stiffened, though she didn't pull away, and when Potter broke eye contact with him, he looked immediately, and rather urgently at Saryn, trying to convey without words something he didn't think Saryn comprehended any better than he did. But it was she, and not Draco who had quickened pace and his fears were assuaged when she drug him directly to her room for a repeat of the previous night.  
  
After, sitting on the floor spent and naked from the waist down, with Saryn still resting her smiling head on his bare thigh, Draco's impatience, and perhaps foolish self-confidence, got the better of him.  
  
"Saryn, dear. I wondered if you might do something for me."  
  
"What?" she asked with lighthearted incredulity. "You couldn't possibly want another. You've come three times already."  
  
"A little later, Slytherkins. Actually, I was wondering if you'd give me an early Christmas present. See, I've asked Father if it would be all right if you spent the holidays with us, as I told him you've recently lost your parents and a family setting might be good for you. He happened to think it was glorious idea. Of course when we get there maybe we can do away with this bobble," he reached down and fingered the serpent necklace, more as an excuse to come in contact with her bare breast than anything, "and find you something more deserving of your beauty," he said, punctuating the comment with a quick wink.  
  
" _Bobble_?" she said, taking it in hand. "This is probably worth more than our old house in the States and everything in it. Daddy was a mechanic, you know. A bad one." She paused for a long moment in serious thought. "I'm not completely alone, y'know. I do have my aunt. I didn't really get a chance to know her that well before coming here, though I think we were becoming quite fond of each other."  
  
"She'll be your aunt for the rest of your life. Aren't you growing fond of me as well? Let me have this one little thing. I promise to make it worthwhile," he said, running his fingers through her silky waves.  
  
"I'll think about it, Draco." she replied uneasily.  
  
Disappointed, but not completely rejected Draco said no more.  
  
Since the picnicking schedule was a bit exhausting, and he couldn't keep her from the Great Hall forever, the next morning they breakfasted as usual, and as she was equally as affectionate as before, even in plain view of Potter. Still, he caught her gaze drift several times towards enemy territory. With her hand firmly pressed against Draco's cock beneath the table she would lock eyes on Potter. "Oh well", he thought, "It appears I've won in the end. What could it really hurt? Let her keep her little crush, as long as she keeps up the thing she's doing to my crotch right now, what does it matter?" Fairly confident that he wasn't going to lose her to the Boy-Who-Lived again, at least not any time soon judging by the eagerness with which she presently fondled him, he allowed their glances...even stole a few himself. Though, being thoroughly satisfied (and not only in sense of the situation), he didn't glare at Potter in loathing. But instead allowed himself to study him and see him through Saryn's eyes.  
  
It wasn't as though her preoccupation with Harry was completely ludicrous, even though Harry wasn't as rich and handsome as he was. In fact Draco had often wondered why Harry never had a girlfriend. He was far from unattractive, even Draco could appreciate that. Harry possessed that boyish charm which was perfectly complimented by his unkempt black hair and impossibly dorky glasses. Actually, all Harry's features: his glasses, his quick good-natured smile, his ungainly gait, were all awkward to such an extreme that when put together they achieved a kind of inexplicable grace; like a puppy so funny looking it is irresistibly adorable. Not that he was _all_ gawkiness. Harry had a handsome face and stunning green eyes. And was maturing well, Draco had to admit; all those strenuous Quidditch practices _certainly_ weren't damaging his physique. He was reminiscent of the unlikely romantic hero in all those silly love stories girls seemed to fancy so much. Which was what made it hard for Draco to understand...because, were the girls interested in Harry? Ironically no...they were attracted to boys like Draco, conceited and condescending and manipulative. (These traits Draco guiltlessly conceded possession of.) Still, Draco had thought his fame, at least, would have been enough to launch Harry into the most eligible bachelor category, with girls desperate to console the poor, unfortunate, tragically misunderstood star. Whatever the reason, the boy-next-door dreamboat that _was_ Harry Potter remained unattached...until Saryn. And now that was deprived him. At least in every practical sense.

Oh, poor boy

, Draco thought with a mocking pout of his lip.

And so while Draco could understand Saryn's attraction to Harry, he still had no idea what to do about it, though at the moment it didn't concern him so much at all.  
  
He couldn't let it concern him really. Because in a few hours time was Potions class, and if Draco had let himself be concerned, he would go mad during it.  
  
Thankfully these thoughts were interrupted by the mail. Owls of every shape and size came swooping around as they did every morning around this time. Draco usually never paid much attention, but was grateful for the distraction now. He watch them fill the hall, a blur of feathers and raining parcels, when he caught sight of a very familiar eagle owl. His stomach turned. With an air of great importance it lit directly in front of Draco, breast thrust forward in proud attention. Draco practically took it's claw off as he snatched the letter from it and it hooted at him in a very unpleasant manner before abruptly lifting to the air.  
  
The letter was, of course, from Draco's father.  
  
"Excuse me, Slytherkins." He said shakily, already rising from the table. "I won't be a moment." Saryn looked at him strangely but nodded and without explaining further Draco slipped from the Great Hall. He didn't want to risk her seeing what the letter said, as it would most likely destroy everything he'd been working toward. And so safely out of view he torn it open and read anxiously.  
  
_Draco, there has been no word from you in some time. I certainly hope, for your sake, you have not failed me. Why, pray tell, have you not given the girl the necklace I sent? Damn the ceremony and see that she is wearing it by tonight. If I do not receive an owl from you before this day is through telling me of your smashing success you will be getting more than a letter with my next communication. I hope you understand me._  
  
And he did. Draco scolded himself for not sending word the night before, but he had hoped to have a definite answer from Saryn about the holidays before writing his father. Draco wondered why it was so important that Saryn should wear the necklace. It made Draco feel uneasy, though he wasn't sure why. It didn't really matter anyway, she was wearing the necklace now, and Draco needn't worry about that further. He would at least be assuring his father of that, if not the holiday plans, immediately after breakfast. He shuddered to think what his father had in mind to send him if he didn't.  
  
  
***  
  
Harry hadn't gotten a wink of sleep for almost two days. He was exhausted and unresponsive the next morning, but it didn't seem to matter, because Ron and Hermione were at it again. Harry had noticed the two were arguing more than usual lately, but he had been so wrapped up with Saryn he hadn't paid all that much attention until now. This morning they seemed particularly vicious, though Harry hadn't taken note of exactly what was the matter. It didn't take much these days.  
  
He was too preoccupied to care at the moment. He had to find a way to talk to Saryn. He had lingered by the dungeons all evening the night before, only to find Draco connected to her at the hip when they appeared, so Harry walked forward to meet them, hoping Saryn could see in his expression how anxious he was to talk to her. It obviously hadn't worked, at least not as he had planned. He had thought of sending her an owl, but then she was always with Draco and he would no doubt be very interested in who was writing her, since the owl her aunt used was very distinctive and Harry could never find another like it. Speaking of owls, the mail began to arrive as Harry was brainstorming. He sighed and looked over to the Slytherin table, trying to resign himself to the fact that he would have to wait until Potions before he had a chance to speak to Saryn, and then he had no idea how he would get round Ron and Hermione.  
  
Suddenly, a miracle happened... Draco got a letter. Not that that was miraculous in itself really, only that he seemed very keen on leaving the Hall to read it. Harry hastily ripped some parchment from the scroll in his bag and scrawled a note to Saryn.  
  
_Must talk to you IMMEDIATELY. Find a way to get away from Draco and meet me behind the greenhouses after class._  
  
Harry glanced over at Ron and Hermione. They were bickering furiously and didn't appear to notice he was even there.  
  
Harry performed a banishing charm and the note went sailing across the aisle and under the Slytherin table directly into Saryn's lap. She jumped and looked down at it and then to Harry. Rather reluctantly with one eye on the door, she opened and read it, and then sheepishly nodded to Harry. He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe now he could pay attention to Prof. Sprout's lecture, that is, if he didn't fall asleep in the flutterby bushes first.

Chapter Seven  
  
_~  
Talula Talula, you don't want to lose her  
She must be worth losing if it is worth something  
~_  
  
"Saryn!" Harry cried in relief finding her behind the greenhouse after herbology.  
  
"Not here, follow me." she insisted, dragging him after her as she slipped round the greenhouse and into the castle checking every corner like a trained spy. He followed her up two flights of stairs. She was headed for a bathroom. A very familiar bathroom.

"In here." she instructed.  
  
"Saryn. I don't really like that place," Harry tried to argue.  
  
"No one uses it for some reason. Come on, we won't be disturbed."  
  
Harry of course knew this. He'd spent many an hour here his second year watching Hermione brew that horrible potion. Reluctantly he followed, eyeing the sinks with great dislike.  
  
"I know it's a girl's bathroom, Harry, but you don't have to be that freaked out." She remarked, watching him shrink toward the far wall.  
  
"It's not that. I've just been here before. There's a passage here that really only I can open, leading to a place I'd like to forget. It's a long story," he explained. She looked at him thoughtfully but didn't press. He forced himself to come to terms with their hideout and returned his thoughts to the matter at hand.  
  
"Saryn, I've been wanting to talk to you for ages..."  
  
"I know," she said, voice now riddled with guilt. She rush to him and took his hands in hers. "Oh Harry, I'm so sorry. I'm just confused. I know how it looks and I'm not sure how I feel about Draco...But I think he found us out somehow. And with you being a Gryffindor and me a Slytherin...but I didn't mean to hurt you I just-"  
  
"No," he managed to break in. He'd rather not think about where she'd been the past couple of days. "That's not it." She quieted and looked at him inquiringly.  
  
"Saryn, I've found something out," he began. "I overheard some things. I think you're in danger. You should stay away from Malfoy." She eyed him in scrutiny. "Why?"  
  
For all the thought about wanting to talk to her, Harry had given very little thought to what he would say. Obviously Dumbledore had his reasons for withholding all that information from Saryn, and he didn't want to undermine him. Neither did he want to compromise Snape's position with the deatheaters. As much as he disliked the man, he didn't want him killed after all. Still, he felt she should know at least some of it.  
  
"First, I know you're psychic," he confessed  
  
"How did you-"  
  
"Just trust me and listen. That serum Snape gives you, it's deteriorating your powers. It may destroy them. He isn't meaning for that to happen it just is." Saryn nodded she understood and Harry went on.  
  
"Second, you need to stay away from Malfoy. He's closely connected to some bad people and they are interested in you, I think because of your powers." This she didn't seem to comprehend.  
  
"Surely you know most Slytherins are preoccupied with Dark Magic and lots of other evil things," Harry went on, trying to explain without saying too much. "They are ruthless and don't mind using people for their own ends at whatever cost. I have no clue how you ended up there." At this she turned away from him so he couldn't see her face but cocked her head slightly to let him know she was listening. This confused and upset Harry, he hadn't meant to offend her. He had always assumed she disliked her house as much as every non-Slytherin. He continued, they didn't have much time. "Saryn, Malfoy's been lying to you. His father is the one who told him to seduce you so they could get to you." Saryn gasped and grabbed at the necklace under her sweater, "What? Are you sure?"  
  
" _Positive_."  
  
She was obviously upset and Harry moved towards her to comfort her. "They think they can get you to participate willingly in their schemes. Though I'm not sure why they think you're the kind of person to get wrapped up in all of that." She didn't respond.  
  
"There's more."  
  
She turned to him now, looking as though she couldn't believe there could possibly be more.  
  
"It's your parents, Saryn. I think they're alive." She pulled from his grasp and stalked away from him, putting her hands on a sink as though she would be sick.  
  
"I knew you were mistaken. Whoever told you these things lied." she said in an uncharacteristically mean way.  
  
Harry couldn't understand why she was behaving this way. He'd have cried for joy if someone had told him his parents might still be living.  
  
"What are you talking about? Why is that such an impossibility? You told me yourself you never saw them, were too upset to go to the funeral. I know it's a little far fetched, but you don't understand these people. You'd be surprised what they can do. Your mother, at least, I know is alive. Though for some reason she doesn't want you to know."  
  
"Harry, you're full of shit. My parents are dead!"  
  
"Yes, but Saryn, how do you _know_."  
  
" _Because I killed them!"_  
  
Harry was taken aback.  
  
"You...you what?" he asked helplessly. The confession seemed to have taken quite a bit out of her and she turned wearily to face him.  
  
"I killed my parents, Harry. They're dead. I know they are."  
  
"B-but why? How?" He couldn't wrap his mind around it.  
  
She sighed. "It wasn't premeditated or anything. I'd just had enough," she looked up imploringly at him. "There are worse things than being orphaned, Harry. There is having parents who hate you, people you don't belong with and can't get away from. I know you understand that, you've told me about the Dursley's."  
  
"Yes, but they aren't my mother and father." Harry said in horror. "And I'd never _seriously_ wish them dead!"  
  
"What difference does it make if they are your real parents or not?"  
  
"What happened?" he asked dreading her answer. "What did they do?" She looked faint and sank to her knees, wrapping her arms around them. It obviously wasn't easy for her to recall these things. But when she began to speak she spoke rapidly, as though a dam had burst and she couldn't control the flow of her words.  
  
"It wasn't Mother so much. But Daddy. He hated me. He had always hated me. He hated who I was, what I was. Mother was afraid to stand up for me. He drank. And he always said I was the reason why. He told me I was the spawn of the Devil himself and I could never be saved. We lived in Kansas, Baptist country, and he was wildly religious. But he wouldn't even take me to church, he said it was a sin to bring a demon into the Lord's house." She was crying now, big silent drops rolled down her flawless white cheeks. "I would hear them arguing about me at night when they thought I was asleep. 'I moved from there to get away from that evil, I turned my back on that world and that life,' he'd say. I knew he meant England. He and Mother had the accent, but they wouldn't speak of it to me. 'I moved to be free of it and it's followed me here. She should have been killed at birth. If she'd come out with that mark on her arm, I'd have done it myself' He said that a lot. But I never knew what he meant, that mark, or any of the rest of it really. I don't know what I ever did to him. Honestly, Harry, I tried. I never misbehaved, never." This comment was broken by sobs and Harry felt his heart breaking for her despite her murderous confession. When she regained her composure she continued. "Only occasionally I'd make things happen. When he'd yell at me I'd make the shelves turn over without meaning to. Or my mother's owl collection...my mother loved owls." She smiled at the recollection despite her streaming tears. "She had all these little statues and figurines and brass wall hangings. Well, I'd make them shatter, and I hated that because they were so pretty. Once I made the ceiling fan fall. And that always made it worse. I knew I could do worse things. And it took all my will power not to do them. I couldn't even stand up for myself for having to concentrate on not making the windows explode or the television fly at him.........When he was really drunk he'd hit me... And then he started doing it sober... And one day, they were going out, to a revival ironically, out of town. And he'd said something nasty like, "Don't go channeling your father, the Devil, while we're out." I got _so_ angry. I told him I hated him, and it was him who was the Devil and that I hoped he prayed really hard at that revival because he was headed straight to Hell for treating Mother and me as he did. Of course he hit me. He just hit me and turned around and left. And Mother just looked at me, all sympathetic but followed him out obediently." Her tears stopped falling and her expression grew hard. "I promised myself that was the last time. I wished him dead, Harry. I wished them both dead, Mother for never helping me. I wished them dead and I projected that wish with all my power. Then I saw them, in my mind, pulling onto the highway. And just when I thought I'd die if I hated them anymore, it happened. Daddy just slumped over the wheel. They were hit by a truck...At least they died quickly. But you know what the horrible thing is? Even if I could, I'm not sure I'd take it back." She sighed and looked up at Harry with a quirky smile. "So now you know why I'm in Slytherin. I'm as evil as any of them."  
  
Harry blinked. "What? They died in a crash? But Saryn, that doesn't mean you killed them! It might have been a heart attack or something. Accidents happen..."  
  
"No, I know it was me." she insisted in a tone that shock Harry a bit and made him at least conceded the possibility.  
  
"Regardless,"she continued more quietly. "They are dead."  
  
Harry shuffled over to her and sat down by her, wrapping his arms around her and she allowed it. They were terribly late for Potions. Harry could only imagine the row that would cause between them and about half a dozen other people for various reasons. But it couldn't be helped. This was not a situation you just walked out of because you had Potions.  
  
"After dark, OK? Usual place? We can talk more then." She nodded her consent.  
  
***  
  
Draco was not happy. Saryn had disappeared after class saying she needed to attend to 'feminine needs'. And while this gave Draco an opportunity to owl his father assuring him that the necklace was at that moment hanging from Saryn's neck, she hadn't appeared at Potions. But more disturbingly, neither had Harry Potter. Snape was in an absolute rage. The man didn't appear to be feeling well to begin with, and with their absence on top of that he had subjected the class to one of his famous pop quizzes that plainly was not meant to be passed.  
  
At lunch Draco, fuming, had headed to Slytherin instead of the Great Hall and had found Saryn in her room as he had hoped he would.  
  
"One of the Gryffindor tables was curious empty during Potions today," he said coldly in greeting.  
  
"It's complicated, Draco," she replied shortly. Draco could tell she'd been crying. _So she must have been breaking it off with Potter_ he thought. _That can be excused_.  
  
"Snape may not be so gracious, he said he'd like to speak with you as soon as possible. I, on the other hand may be willing to forgive you. Just tell me you're spending Christmas at Malfoy Manor with me and all is forgotten, my little Slytherkins. Easy as that." he said, snapping his fingers lazily.  
  
"You know Draco," she began with a seductive smile, that wily, playful tone Draco loved so much showing up in her voice. "I've been thinking about that..."  
  
" _Aaand_?" he asked with a smile.  
  
"And, I've decided I'd rather not. Now if you will excuse me" She took him by the arm to help him find his way out.  
  
"Wait a minute." Draco said becoming angry. "We aren't going back to this again are we?"  
  
"Good bye, Draco." She said, slamming the door to and locking it.  
  
Draco just stared at the closed door, dumbfounded. What was going on?  
  
Shaking from head to toe he retreated to his room to lick his wounds. How on earth was he ever going to explain this to his father?  
  
Saryn was absent for the rest of the day's classes, and after supper Draco again tried to talk to her, but there was no answer to his knock. In the end he had written his father the perfunctory letter and sent it off just before crawling into bed, dreading the next day and what it might bring.

Chapter Eight  
  
_~  
Put on your make-up boy  
You're your favourite stranger  
And we all like to watch  
~_  
  
Draco didn't have to wait long for his father's reply. Some time right after dawn he was woken by fervent tapping on his dormitory door. Half asleep he shuffled to it, in a very fowl mood for being awakened so early, Saryn wasn't the only one who valued her beauty sleep, and yanked it open angrily. But before an insult could pass his lips a large eagle owl flapped past him, almost knocking him over in surprise and disorientation as it's massive wings fluttered round his face. How it managed to get into the dungeons Draco had no idea. It finally stopped circling the massively high ceiling and landed on Draco's bed, practically shaking it's letter at him in impatience. Draco approached it warily and with trembling fingers removed it's burden, after which it took off without so much as a hoot. Draco turned the roll round and round in his hand. There was no writing on the outside. It was no more than a note, his father had not even bothered to place it in an envelope, and he knew it's contents could not be good, at least not for Draco. Knowing it must be quite urgent to have been delivered there so soon before the normal mail, Draco opened it finally and read  
  
_Your failure is of little concern now. The situation is well in hand. I shall be arriving at Hogwarts within the hour and shall speak to you then._  
  
"He's coming here?!" Draco said aloud to the parchment, causing Crabbe to groan a barely audible 'What's coming here?' from his pillow. Draco ignored him and moved to dress, quickly but with extra attention. No good his father thinking he had failed due to slovenly appearance. Buttons in place, hair slicked and cloak clasped, Draco immediately left the common room. He needed some air. He need to think.  
  
"Why would he be coming here?" he asked himself repeatedly in a whisper as he paced aimlessly through the lesser used corridors of the dungeons. "Surely he doesn't mean simply to chastise me in person." Though that was by no means unthinkable. On he paced, trying not to imagine his imminent doom.  
  
"Perhaps...Perhaps I can still persuade her." he was rambling to himself now like a madman. "Yes. Before he arrives, maybe I can convince her to change her mind. Or at least fake it until I think of something. I could go talk to her before he gets here!" It couldn't hurt to try, and it being his only viable option it seemed a glorious idea.  
  
He rushed back to Slytherin only to find Saryn had already left for breakfast, as had most of the rest of the house. He must have been out far longer than he had thought. Drat! Draco actually sprinted to the Great Hall. Panting at it's threshold, he searched for Saryn, and found her, noting acridly that she was in fact throwing playful glances at the Gryffindor table. Draco's lip twitched into a smirk as he wondered if he had ever hated Harry Potter more than he did at that moment. He smoothed his robes and slowed his breathing, and was so intent on making his way to Saryn's side that he failed to notice Professor Snape striding towards her with equal speed from the opposite end of the Hall.  
  
"Saryn, I need to speak to you _now_." he managed to whisper before Snape came to a halt not a foot from them. Saryn looked questioningly from one to the other of them.  
  
"There you are Mr. Malfoy." Draco looked up at him, too surprised to answer. He hadn't even noticed he was there. Snape's expression was grim indeed.  
  
"Miss Sylvany," he said in an unusually subdued tone. "Would you be so kind as to accompany me to the Headmaster's office? Professor Dumbledore prays an audience with you. Mr. Malfoy, your presence has been requested as well."  
  
Draco's? If Saryn was to be reprimanded for her absences yesterday why was he expected to go? He had nothing to do with it...go nab Potter, it was his fault. But Draco didn't dare question him. He felt like a caged animal. He needed to talk to the girl! He didn't have time for this. His father might already have arrived. He took a quick moment to compose himself, laying his hand on the table to steady him. And as he turned to do so he caught sight of Potter, actually the whole Holy Trinity, displaying great interest in the proceedings. _This is all your fault you scar-headed freak. If you exist for the soul purpose of making my life Hell, congratulations, you're succeeding beautifully._ Despite his trepidation about the his present circumstance his loathing for the boy was not dulled and while he was certain he was still being watched, he offered Saryn a hand to help her to her feet, and as they followed Snape from the Great Hall he made a point of resting his hand possessively on the small of Saryn's back. She shot him a look, but did not brush him away.  
  
Draco had never been called to the Headmaster's office before, and when they halted before a the statue of a rather goofy looking gargoyle, he wondered why on earth they were stopped. He wanted to get on with this.  
  
"Raspberry Custard." Snape spoke clearly and to Draco's surprise it sprang aside revealing a staircase. When they reached the top of it, Snape opened the door without announcement and held it for Saryn to enter. Draco was about to follow when he espied his father standing before Dumbledore's desk.

Their (apparently heated) conversation came to an abrupt halt as Saryn stepped inside. Lucius gave her a broad, curling smile under his appraising eyes and Dumbledore rose politely to his feet. Snape cleared his voice and turned to Draco.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, perhaps it would be more prudent if you remained outside until-"  
  
"Nonsense, Severus," came Lucius' dictatorial drawl, leaving no room for argument. "I asked that the boy be summoned so he might provide some...emotional support. He can't very well do so from the other side of the door. Draco," he motioned to a spot by his side. "come in."  
  
Snape reluctantly stepped aside to allow Draco entrance, who took his place beside his father. And instead of the promising, dire, disappointed glare he had expected, his father gave him an impish smile.  
  
However, neither Snape nor Dumbledore seemed so high spirited. The Headmaster stood behind his desk gravely surveying the assembly. He seemed none too pleased about the presence of either Malfoy but clearly felt it must be tolerated.  
  
"Thank you, Severus." he said as Snape closed the door and came to stand solemnly opposite Lucius.  
  
Draco noticed Dumbledore's voice lacked it's usual melody and his eyes were devoid of their characteristic twinkle. It made him look old and tired, something Draco surprisingly never considered him to be despite his obvious age. Draco looked questioningly up at his father who indicated with a tilt of his head that Draco should pay attention to the proceedings.  
  
"Saryn," Dumbledore offered kindly, "Won't you sit down?"  
  
She lowered herself into the proffered chair, obviously more puzzled than even Draco was, and waited expectantly.  
  
"It is my sad duty," Dumbledore continued, "to inform you of the passing of Miss Mariyn Sylvany."  
  
The subtlest change stole over her countenance. "Passing?" she asked in a weak voice. "Aunt Mary?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded sadly. "She was found this morning in the woods behind her home. Sadly the cause of this untimely event has not, as of yet, been ascertained." Saryn sat as if made of stone, her blank expression looked as though carved from white marble. Draco, made to move to her side, but his father's hand came down forbiddingly on his shoulder.  
  
"There is something else you should know, Saryn. " The Headmaster retrieved a long piece of parchment from the top drawer of his desk and handed it to her.  
  
"My enrollment form?" She asked in a soft slow voice as if in a daze.  
  
"Read it over carefully."  
  
She did this, tracing each line with the tip of her finger. Then suddenly she stopped mid-page and wrinkled her nose up at Dumbledore.  
  
"But this doesn't make any sense."  
  
Draco leaned forward to read the parchment where Saryn's finger rested:  
  
Relationship to Student: __Mother__  
  
"There surely wasn't any question of her guardianship. Why would Aunt Mary feel the need to masquerade as my mother?"  
  
Dumbledore didn't respond, but looked meaningfully and sympathetically down at her and the realization slowly dawned on the girl.  
  
"You mean...But I don't understand," she stammered. " _Why_?"  
  
"No doubt she had her reasons, though they are not fully understood. Regardless, I had no choice but to respect her request that I not reveal this too you sooner. No doubt she was waiting for the appropriate moment to do so in person. However, since that is no longer a possibility, I thought the time had come for you to know."  
  
"But..." Tears began welling in her eyes. "If Aunt Mary was my mother, who were the people who raised me? And why did she send me away?" She paused and shook her head in confusion when something else seemed to occur to her, and her eyes grew wide as if horrified by the sudden thought. "What is to become of me? Am I to be sent to an...an orphanage?" She clearly thought this was an unpleasant word from the way she had to force it from her lips. Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, but Lucius, taking this as his cue, stepped forward and spoke instead.  
  
"Dear Miss Sylvany, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lucius Malfoy," he announced with a smile more twisted and insincere than Draco's. "I must say, as a former governor of this school I have always been most concerned with the well being of it's students. And being an alumni of Slytherin house myself, and also considering your established report with my son, I am very sensitive to your situation. As such I am prepared to extend to you an invitation to reside at Malfoy Manor as my ward, and would feel quite honored to be allowed to assist you in any way within my power to help you through this difficult time. In fact, room has already been prepared for you in anticipation of the upcoming Holidays." He actually grinned. He looked almost...triumphant.  
  
"Lucius, might I remind you the decision rests entirely in Saryn's hands." Dumbledore said pointedly. Lucius scoffed.  
  
"Decision? Between some second rate orphanage and the luxuries of Malfoy Manor? Come, Albus, do be realistic."  
  
Draco simply gawked, completely aghast, from his father's smug expression to Dumbledore's furious one, to Snape's impotently frustrated one; Snape hadn't spoken a word since the meeting began, though it appeared he had plenty to add. Saryn, incredulous and despairing, did the same as Draco.  
  
"So I have no choice?" she said now in a barely audible voice to no one in particular.  
  
"Saryn," Dumbledore addressed her, "You do not have to make this difficult decision right away. Take some time to come to terms with your recent loss. You are perfectly welcome to remain here for the holidays, as many other students do, in order to think this over."  
  
"I have no choice." she repeated as though Dumbledore had never spoken. "...because I have lost my mother a second time...because I am now truly orphaned..." Her voice was rising steadily into hysteria and the paper she still held in her hand began to shake mildly.  
  
"Saryn," Dumbledore insisted, "you _do_ have a choice."  
  
"No," she said shaking her head slowly and looking accusingly at Lucius and then steadily at Draco. "No I do not. And that was precisely the point of it."  
  
She rose now, completely deaf to any continued objection, and stumbled blindly from the room with Draco staring after her in shock.  
  
Was she right? Of course she was. He knew perfectly well what his father was capable of. _The situation is well in hand._  
  
"Well," his father hissed in his ear, "go after her, you stupid boy!"  
  
As if by some volition other than his own, Draco obeyed, running numbly after her as she tore down the hall. Then she stopped, looking as though she might faint, and grasped a carved torch column to steady herself which allowed Draco to catch up to her.  
  
"Saryn," he said between ragged breaths. "I-"  
  
She rounded on him, eyes flaming like one possessed. Without warning Draco felt himself being lifted into the air by an invisible hand. She hadn't even drawn her wand. He collided violently with the stone wall, knocking the breath from him and was there suspended looking down on the girl in undisguised terror.  
  
"You killed her." she said in a low, feral voice Draco would never recognize to belong to the beauty. She pushed herself away from the column and stepped slowly toward him, clenching and unclenching her hands at her sides as tears rained silently from her murderous eyes. In the torch light they appeared red, as though she were crying blood.  
  
"You killed her so you might have me there at your precious manor all to yourself. You killed her out of _jealousy_ of that poor, gawky, scarred boy!"  
  
"Saryn...I swear!," he managed to say despite the painful constriction of his chest where it seemed the unseen force was concentrated to keep him aloft. "Saryn, I had no idea. I would never." She took a step forward and the pressure increased.  
  
"I swear to you I had nothing to do with this!" he cried, just as he felt he would faint. She glared at him for a time and then her look softened and slowly Draco felt the pressure on his chest lessen. He came tumbling to the stone floor taking several coughing breathes, his hand clutched as his injured chest.  
  
"Saryn, please believe me, " He was able to speak more freely now and in a much more convincing tone."I'd much sooner simply put an end to Potter." She snorted and didn't doubt this. But neither did she appear contrite about almost killing him. She only turned and headed toward the Slytherin common room without another word to Draco.  
  
"For the love of Merlin." Draco mumbled under his breath and struggled to his feet to follow. He wasn't finished with this conversation.  
  
She headed straight for her room, leaving the door open for Draco to enter, which he did, closing it behind him.  
  
"Are you ever going to start thinking for yourself?" she started as soon as she heard the latch catch. She turned to him. "Or are you going to leave that to your father your entire life?"  
  
" _What_?" he snapped. Despite her recent display he didn't have sense enough to be afraid of her in his offense.  
  
"I know you were instructed to court me. This 'bobble' is from your father, not from you, isn't it? What do you think I am? A life-sized Barbie doll to be played with? To be dressed up and shown off in your fancy manor and undressed as you please?"  
  
"What's a _Barbie_ doll?" He asked, but she began looking murderous again and Draco didn't inquire further.  
  
"Do you really think I would have agreed if I wasn't already interested in you?" He demanded. "I'm not some puppet! It was just convenient that my father supported me. I had nothing to do with your aunt. Father, doesn't let me in on his little schemes."  
  
"No, he has you be a willing pawn in them."  
  
"That necklace isn't just from my father, you know. Here." He reached into his pocket and drew out a long, bulky, and worn chain. "The pendant maybe, but he sent it on this clunky, tarnished chain. I bought the one you are wearing myself. I thought something more delicate would suit you." He sneered."Because you are so _delicate_ aren't you?" he said sardonically. "I did that of my own free will and expense. But since I am the mindless, inconsiderate, unfeeling pawn you say I am, take it." He threw the chain on her bed. "I don't care what you do with any of it. Toss it in the lake for all I care. And since you have that poor, gawky, scarred boy to hold you and I'm no use to you, I'll be leaving now. Good riddance." He stormed from the room.  
  
"Draco, wait!" she called from behind him. But he wasn't listening. He had someone to meet in the observatory.  


***  
  
For the third night in a row Harry was getting no sleep. But that was alright as there were no classes the next day... _and_ he was spending the evening with Saryn. She had met him in the observatory as planned. Though it had only been a few days since this last occurred, it felt to Harry like years, and when he took her in his arms there under their familiar ceiling of stars he felt an incredible sense of relief, all the anxiety of the past days melting in the warmth of her presence.  
  
For a very long while they didn't speak at all. But as the minutes slowly expired and Harry knew the hour of their parting ticked steadily closer, he decided it was time to break the comforting stillness. There were things of great import to be discussed. He unwound himself from her and spoke.  
  
"Saryn," his voice sounded strange to him, echoing off the circular stone walls after the silence, it was foreign and tinny, "Have you thought about what I told you?" Reluctantly she straightened and cleared her throat.  
  
"A little," she said. "If the serum is deteriorating my powers like you say it is-"  
  
"It is," he assured her.  
  
She looked at him as though she didn't have too much confidence in him, but would comply anyway. "Then I think I should stop taking it...But Harry. In a very real way I need it. It's disconcerting, all the thoughts that seep in that I can't ignore, or causing things to move on accident. I mean, who told you all those things anyway? And how can you be so sure they were right? They were wrong about my parents."  
  
"I wasn't told. I overheard. And I only guessed about your parents," he confessed repentantly. "But I'm certain about the serum...and I'm certain about Malfoy." he added firmly. Saryn clucked her tongue and turned away from him.  
  
"Saryn, I'm serious. I've had run-ins with these people before. It is a very dangerous order. And Malfoy is the son of a very important member of it."  
  
"He has a first name you know." she snapped. Harry was taken aback. "A very nice name I think. You might try using it. It's much more pleasant than Malfoy."  
  
"Why are you so upset about this?"  
  
"Because I don't understand why you hate each other so much."  
  
_Why do I hate Malfoy? Let's see...because he loves to see me suffer, because he would betray me to Voldemort in a heartbeat, because he insults my friends and tries to get us all in trouble every chance he gets. Oh, and let's not forget he's a slimy, spineless git._  
  
"Saryn, this thing between me and Malfoy goes back a long way."  
  
"But he's harmless," she sighed.  
  
"I'm not so sure about that," Harry argued.  
  
"Okay, granted, he's spoiled and stubborn and proud and extremely petty at times..." Harry nodded his agreement to all of these. "...but don't you see he was raised to be like that? I gleaned a lot from him before I started taking the serum, Harry, and he's not all that bad. He's just never taken the time to decide what _he_ really thinks, he's been taught to repeat his father, to mimic him in every way. The Draco you see is not the real Draco. He does the things he does because, I suspect, he's genuinely a sensitive person trying desperately to appear to his father, and to the rest of the world, that he is otherwise...because it's _expected_ of him."  
  
Harry thought about what she said for a long time. He wondered what _he_ would be like if he had been raised as a Malfoy, with a father like Draco's. And despite himself Harry felt a twang of sympathy for the little brat.  
  
"So you're drawn to his sensitive soul, which he never shows, and that's why you have been standing me up at night? To cultivate it? Lure him out of his shell?" She threw Harry an acrid look, and her voice was sharp and sudden as a snake bite.  
  
"I told you he found out about us."  
  
"So what? If you want to be with me and not him, why do you care if he knows?"  
  
"Why don't you tell _your_ friends about _me_?", she hissed. Inwardly Harry conceded his hypocrisy, but was too stubborn and jealous to leave it at that.  
  
"How do you know I haven't?" he challenged.  
  
"Please, Harry. I don't need to be psychic to know that. I can tell by the way that Granger girl looks at me. And surely such a good friend as that Weasley wouldn't gawk at his best mate's girl so openly." she said rather shrewishly.  
  
" _That Granger? That_ Weasley?" It was the first time Harry had ever been angry with her...and he was pretty angry. "My friends have names too you know! Just because you're in Slytherin doesn't mean you have to act like those assholes...Or maybe Hermione was right. Maybe you are just a typical Slytherin and I've been too trusting to see it.  
  
"Is that what you think? I may not be like _you_ Harry, but I'm not like them" She shook her head, "...I should have known this would be a disappointment."  
  
"What?" Harry asked, growing angrier. " _Us_?"  
  
"No! Coming here, to Hogwarts," she stood abruptly and walked away from him like he was something unpleasant. "All my life I've been different, and I've been hated for it, and almost hating myself because of it. And I thought that by coming here I'd finally be able to fit in. But that was a load of crap I force fed myself. Everyone here hates me too, because I'm a Slytherin. And all the Slytherins hate me as well, because I was raised a muggle. Even the teachers treat me differently!" Harry was about to respond to this, but she cut him off.  
  
"You want to know why I'm with Draco? Because Draco makes me feel like I belong. Draco accepts me-"  
  
"Oh, and I don't I suppose?"  
  
"Harry it's different! You're a Gryffindor, and I'm a Slytherin. It's so hard for us to be together. Draco's just always there, he's _accessible_."  
  
Harry was about to shout something back, but noticed she had tears in her eyes, though she apparently was trying to hide them from him. His anger melted a little. _God, I'm a softy_. He sighed and rose to go to her.  
  
"I understand about being different. Believe me I do."  
  
"Different, maybe. But at least the whole school doesn't _hate_ you." She said, hiccupping a small sob.  
  
"They did once," he told her. "My second year here, everyone hated me. They were afraid of me. I think even Ron and Hermione were, too, in a way." She looked at him, forgetting to hide her tears in her curiosity.  
  
"Y'know that bathroom you took me to, and I said I didn't like it and it was a long story?" She nodded. "Well, that's because some bad things happened back then, students were being attacked, and everyone thought it was me doing it." She looked appalled.  
  
"But why would they think it was you?"  
  
"Because someone wrote messages on the walls saying it was the heir of Slytherin doing those things, and Slytherin was famous for being able to talk to snakes. And...well...I can talk to snakes...But I'm not the heir of Slytherin.," he added quickly. "That's an even longer story. But everyone thought that since I could speak parsletongue that I must be the heir and they were all afraid of me." He hated digging this up. She looked up at him in keen curiosity, tears gone, and there was something almost predatory in her eye. It made Harry uncomfortable. "The point is, I know how you feel. But just give it some time. People will accept you, once they get a chance to know you. You just haven't been here long." She appeared to be calmed by this and stepped closer to Harry so he could put his arms around her.  
  
"But why don't you like that bathroom?" she asked softly after a while.  
  
"Oh." he said, "Well, the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is there, and you have to be a parsletongue like me to open it. A monster used to live down there and it was what was attacking the students."  
  
"The Chamber of Secrets." she repeated as though filing the words away in her memory. "So, you're afraid of the monster?"  
  
"Er...no. Actually," he hated talking about what others considered his heroics. "I killed it. And it wasn't exactly a happy experience. That bathroom reminds me of it is all." She didn't ask any more questions which relieved Harry enormously.  
  
"Saryn," he ventured. "You say you're with Draco because he's accessible. Well what if I was? I mean. I couldn't be nearly as accessible as he is. But what if, say, if either of us needed someone to talk to or something, we could have some sort of sign that no one else would notice, and we could meet here, right away?" She considered this for a moment and nodded.  
  
"But what kind of sign?" she asked.  
  
"I don't know. A double wink or something?"  
  
She grinned wickedly. "Sure, we do that anyway, and it drives Draco mad."  
  
"In that case maybe it should be a triple wink." he kidded. She swatted at him playfully.  
  
"Stop it. I told you to be nice to Draco, and I'll be nice to Ron and Hermione...And I'll try and make sure Draco is too, how's that?"  
  
"I won't hold my breath about Draco," he said. God that name sounded weird on his tongue. "But otherwise, it's a deal."  
  
Harry slept very soundly when he got back to the dorms. Of course things weren't perfect, but they weren't so dire. Saryn was going to stop taking the serum, and he had warned her about Malfoy...or _Draco_...and that was all he could do.  
  
Surprisingly, Harry woke early, actually refreshed, and so decided to go down to breakfast early before Ron and Hermione were likely to be there. He crept from the common room, and headed confidently towards the Great Hall, and was practically seated, when he noticed Hermione making a b-line for him from the doors. He sighed, but then reasoned he'd been ignoring his friends for a while. No doubt she'd assail him with worried questions. Harry felt that, this morning, he could handle whatever might come. But then he spied, surprisingly, that Ron was right behind her. This must be important, he thought, for Ron to be up and at it this early. _God, please tell me I'm not about to have to settle another argument._  
  
"Morning, Hermione, Ron."He said as cheerfully as he could muster.  
  
"Harry, we need to talk." Hermione said sitting on one side of him while Ron took the other. _Here we go_.  
  
"About what?"  
  
"About the mating habits of flobberworms," Ron said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "What do you _think_?"  
  
"I've been in the library the last few days," Hermione announced. _Big surprise_. "And I found all sorts of things about Mariyn Sylvany."  
  
"For the love of...Hermione, what is your _deal_ with that Saryn girl?" Harry said, a little more harshly than he had intended. Hermione gave him a stern look and continued.  
  
"Listen to what I found." she insisted. "Mariyn Sylvany was a very powerful psychic, and like her card said she did a lot of good stuff with her power, which supposedly runs in the female line of her family."  
  
"Ok," Harry responded unenthusiastically.  
  
"She had a daughter named Mariyn as well. It's odd, I know, but it's like the girl to inherit the power inherits the name too, some tradition or something."  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
" _Well_ ," Hermione continued, getting all fired up now. "Did you know that her daughter was in league with the deatheaters?" Harry dropped the sarcasm and was suddenly very interested. "Apparently she was recruited by her own brother. After a year or so, though, he renounced Voldemort and went into hiding. But Mariyn, junior as it were, stayed behind and was said to be one of the keys to Voldemort's power, using her psychic abilities to help him locate traitors and spy on his enemies."  
  
"You found all this in the _library_?" Harry asked amazedly.  
  
"Hermione can find anything in the library." Ron chimed, smiling goofily at Hermione, and Hermione, unfazed, picked up where she left off.  
  
"Strangely, though, about a year before Voldemort's fall, she disappeared." Hermione finished in half a dramatic whisper.  
  
Harry was very uneasy. Things almost made sense, but not quite. After all, her name was Saryn, not Mariyn. And she was muggleborn. And if he didn't know that Saryn was a gifted psychic he just might have tried to dismiss it as coincidence. But he knew it wasn't. Not after what Snape said about her being connected to Voldemort somehow. Harry wondered if he should tell them about what Snape and Dumbledore had said. In fact, he was sure he should. But that would mean admitting he was still seeing Saryn, or rather, that he had started seeing her in the first place, and he knew they'd be hurt by the secret. As if she could read his mind, Hermione spoke.  
  
"Listen, Harry, we know you've been sneaking off to see Saryn." Harry was more embarrassed than surprised. "And that's why we're here. And we aren't mad or anything. Well. We may be upset, but we're willing to forgive you. We're just worried about you is all."  
  
Ron nodded his agreement, but Harry didn't quite know how to respond.  
  
"Ok," he said finally. "Since the cat is out of the bag, I have some things to say. One, thank you. I know you guys care about me, and I care about you, and I'm sorry I've been hiding things from you. You're great friends...But...Two, I'm not going to stop seeing Saryn. I care about her and she's lonely and confused by a lot of things. Which brings me to number three." he took a deep breath, trying not to look at the shocked look on Hermione's face. "I overheard Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore talking about her, and I think she's in danger. Not me for a change, her. And I'm glad you guys know about us now, because I need your understanding because I have to be there for her when she needs me."  
  
Hermione didn't speak for a long moment, and then she practically burst at him.  
  
"So you're going to continue to ignore us? Your _great_ friends? And just go galloping into danger because of a girl you've just met? Her family's connected to the deatheaters, Harry, to Voldemort, the man who killed your parents!"  
  
"I _know_ who killed my parents," Harry hissed.  
  
Hermione appeared a little apologetic, but didn't let up. "She could be working with them to get to you, Harry. Did that never occur to you?"  
  
"She's not working with anyone, she didn't even know our world existed until about six months ago-"  
  
"-well she sure caught on quickly." Hermione interjected, remembering the episode in potions bitterly.  
  
Harry glared at her and went on. "Listen, she grew up in the States, coming to England would be change enough. But she's at an English school of _witchcraft_ , for God's sake, and she feels out of place enough without you trying to make her out to be an assassin, or evil spy."  
  
"I just don't _trust_ her Harry. And I don't think you should either. You've been betrayed before by people you thought you could trust. I just don't want to see it happen again. She's all buddy buddy with Malfoy, and she's probably not any better than he is."  
  
"And just how do you know Draco's all that bad? Do you even really know him?" Harry said, surprising himself. There was more conviction in his voice than he thought possible when talking about Malfoy, at least in a sympathetic manner, and he wasn't sure if it was because he believed what he said or if he was just angry at Hermione. Her mouth flew open, and Harry was vaguely surprised her eyes didn't just fall out of her head they were opened so widely.  
  
"Harry," she said in an amazingly calm voice, her expression unchanged. "Has she put some kind of spell on you? Has she been brainwashing you?" she asked sincerely.  
  
Harry just shook his head. He realized Ron hadn't said a word for a very long time and turned to him.  
  
"So what do you think, Ron? Do you think I've been brainwashed? Do you think I'm crazy?"  
  
But Ron didn't answer. His eyes were narrowed and glued to the door. Harry turned and saw Draco Malfoy there, out of breath and looking less than his collected, polished self. He was going to remark on it to Hermione, but noticed she was staring intently at something as well. At the opposite end of the Hall Professor Snape had emerged from a door behind the staff table. Harry looked from Draco, to Snape, and realized they were both headed straight, and very quickly, for Saryn at the Slytherin table, whom Harry had not even noticed was there until that moment. God, he hoped she hadn't overheard them arguing.  
  
He, Ron, and Hermione all turned and watched as Snape and Draco convened at Saryn's side. Harry wondered what could possibly be going on, and hoped Saryn would look up and notice him. Snape said something to the two Slytherins, and then Saryn did notice at Harry. She gave him a perplexed, uneasy look, subtly winking twice...their signal. He nodded.  
  
Then Harry's attention was drawn to Draco. He looked paler than usual, and disoriented. When he turned to grasp the table edge he saw Harry staring at him, and Harry didn't look away. He glared viciously at Harry for an instant, but then composed himself, alarmingly quickly, so he might put on his usual show, sneering at Harry as he put an arm around Saryn's waist, and followed Snape from the Great Hall.  
  
"What was that all about," Hermione wondered aloud as they disappeared, her anger obviously forgotten in light of this new mystery. Ron only furrowed his brow and shook his head.  
  
"I don't know," Harry said. "But I'm sure I can find out." He got up from the table and looked down at his friends. Now that his anger had subsided, he felt a little guilty for having been so cross, the were, after all, just looking out for him.  
  
"Listen guys," he said to them. "I'm sorry. We'll talk about this later. I promise. But I need to go see what's wrong, alright?" Reluctantly, they both nodded and Harry headed straight for the observatory. 

Chapter Nine  
  
_~  
Lie me up with all your grievances, Stare, but I can taste you're still alive below the waist.  
~_  
  
Harry went straight to the observatory to wait for Saryn. He knew she wouldn't come immediately, but when she did, he'd be there, he just had to be patient. But the minutes dragged by like hours and Harry couldn't keep from dwelling on his misgivings. The summons couldn't be reprimand for the missed potions class, or Harry would have been called as well. The fact that Draco had been taken instead did little to calm his unease. Snape wouldn't be telling Saryn about anything Harry had overheard, not with Draco there, not when he knew of Draco's father's plans.  
  
He decided he had to distract himself, or he'd go sick with worry, so Harry once again studied his surroundings.  
  
The observatory looked so very different in the daytime, Harry remarked. It _looked_ abandoned, something Harry had never paid any mind to before, unable to really see the condition of the room by the light of a handful of clustered candles. But now the brilliant light from the morning sun poured over the relics and the thick dust, stripped with the evidence of curious fingers, gave every object in the room an eerie, wizened halo. The atmosphere was indeed calming to Harry, and he became lost in a rare and thoughtful mood. He wondered about this place. It had always seemed a bit removed from reality, as his time with Saryn's seemed a dream he was expecting every moment to wake from. She had that effect on him, he realized. Her presence always put Harry in a dreamy, otherworldly state where he seemed to float, a state that was very addictive, Harry had to admit. But now, in this new light and in her absence the room took on a different, though similar personality. No less dreamlike, but more...thought provoking. He mused about the history of the room and the objects it held, trying to imagine their long lives and what they could say if they could speak to Harry. What insight they must certainly be able to shed on his situation. These haloed instruments, sainted by age and knowledge as it were, had been there forever, and would be; they had studied the stars and knew their secrets, had witnessed acts of passion and rites of passage and understood somehow the way it all played together in some odd scheme or pattern ordained by the heavens to be acted out here on earth... These instruments understood...These instruments accepted...These instruments could not be surprised...  
  
"She's not coming."  
  
Harry started with a jerk and rounded to face the door. There leaned Draco Malfoy, staring coolly back at him. Harry was startled, but his previous mood was potent and had not been fully banished by his sudden appearance. Seeing Draco through dust-thick sunbeams, Harry thought the fair boy seemed almost an apparition. Not really there, not really solid, only an illusion with a voice of spiked honey.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" Harry hissed, his heart was pounding in his chest.  
  
Draco responded by stepping casually inside, as though the Harry had offered an invitation instead of a query. And as soon as he did, the sunlight struck his silver blond hair causing a halo to erupt about the boy's head and face, one much more brilliant than belonged to the sentinel star scopes. Harry was struck my sudden and silent awe. Draco paced slowly around the circular room, stepping in and out of the benevolent light, alternating between angel and apparition. _God...he's beautiful._ Harry blinked hard and shook his head, trying to remind himself he was in fact looking at _Draco Malfoy_...In Harry's opinion the very person _furthest_ from sainthood, after Voldemort and Malfoy senior. Then Saryn's words suddenly came back to him... _He's a genuinely sensitive person trying desperately to appear otherwise..._  
  
"Lovely to see you as well, Potter" Draco purred. "Heard you had an unfortunate encounter with a bludger at the beginning of the year." He gave Harry a beautifully malevolent smile. "How're your ribs?"  
  
Harry eyed him suspiciously, the spell abruptly broken. "Just why are you so bloody concerned, Malfoy?" he said through clenched teeth.  
  
Draco only shrugged and continued to pace. This was a dangerous situation. Not mortally dangerous, but dangerous all the same. Harry knew he should just leave. Despite what Saryn believed, you can't undo 16 years of cultivated malice and centuries of breeding simply by being nice to the prick. Malfoy _had_ to be up to no good. Still, though Harry was fairly certain she hadn't sent him, he reasoned that Draco knew what had happened earlier with Saryn, and perhaps he should brave Draco's presence until he had drug that out of him. As obviously, Saryn wouldn't be coming herself.  
  
"So how...How is she?" He asked timidly, he hadn't had much practice being civil to this boy and he felt awkward. "Where is she?"  
  
"Now why are _you_ so bloody concerned, Potter?" Malfoy spit back. He threw Harry a look thick with loathing. _This is impossible! I'm not going to get anything out of him._ He shook his head at Draco and moved towards the door.  
  
"Saryn's in her room." Draco said abruptly as Harry reached for the handle, the sincerity in his voice Drawing Harry's attention. He stopped and turned back to Draco, mistrust battling with anxious concern. "...Is...is she all right?" At this Draco sneered and shook his finger at Harry.  
  
"No no. I answered your question, Potter. Now it's my turn." This was ridiculous! Harry wasn't about to stick around to be toyed with like this. And yet somehow he found himself almost spellbound by their parley. In his words and actions Malfoy reminded Harry of a great stalking cat, sleek and controlled, disarming his prey with patient grace until he chose to pounce. _Just leave, just leave. Don't don't give him a chance play out whatever he has planned. Just leave!_ But Harry's brain and Harry's body stubbornly refused to cooperate with one another. The atmosphere was sinister...but electric. Bright and chillingly cold. A part of him hated that Malfoy had this power over him. And still another found the situation to be unbelievably exhilarating.  
  
"What do you say, Potter?" Malfoy's honeyed brandy voice of feigned persuasion only strengthened the bittersweet spell Harry thought he had already overcome. "A little quid pro quo?" Harry didn't answer, but neither did he leave.  
  
Malfoy, recognizing his victory, gave a small fleeting smile. He went on pacing with his hands held behind his back. "I wonder...How is she with you, Harry? Is she....blushing? Contrite? Virginal?" Malfoy swept his gaze over Harry's length and Harry could almost feel his gaze like feather light fingertips. But Draco smirked. "She'd have to be wouldn't she? to appeal your _noble_ tastes."  
  
Harry glared at him. But the question was thought provoking. How differently did she act with Malfoy? And which, if either, was dealt with sincerely?  
  
"No? Didn't like that question? Well here's another, one I'd really love for you to answer." Malfoy was drawing in for the kill, Harry sensed it and it made him almost shiver, but he didn't leave. Draco approached slowly, hands behind him still, staring steadily into Harry's eyes. Malfoy's slate grays never flinched, and Harry tried desperately to be so solid, but it was difficult staring into such cold, malicious depths. Yes, Harry saw depth there, depth of feeling and intelligence he had somehow never imagined Malfoy could possess. Those eyes were, for all their piercing iciness, very seductive. And Harry felt for the first time a desire to understand, not simply be aware of, Malfoy's deep seated and misguided contempt.  
  
Malfoy's face was only inches from Harry's own when he finally spoke, and his voice was low and scathing.  
  
"Tell me, _Harry_ ," Draco said in mocking sweetness mirroring the way Saryn always addressed him. He leaned forward to whisper into Harry's ear, and Harry, peculiarly, allowed it.  
  
He was so close Harry could feel his moist, warm breath on his cheek. Why couldn't Harry move away?...Why didn't he _want_ to?  
  
" _Do_ tell me" Malfoy breathed, making the hair rise all over Harry's body. "...Do you ever taste me on her lips when you kiss?"  
  
Harry blinked and stumbled backward as though Malfoy had struck him. Whatever he had expected him to say...that had not been it. He grimaced, the fire of skepticism flaring in his emerald eyes as he narrowed them.  
  
_What was he saying?! Did he really mean that she...? But she's never with me..._  
  
The bastard was lying, had to be. But something in Malfoy's steely gaze told Harry otherwise. Harry's trembling shock quickly turned to rage. Malfoy had his hand in his robes, already withdrawing his wand. But they were too close to duel, and Harry had no intention of flinging curses. His fist connected solidly with Malfoy's pretty face, and though it looked delicate and fragile, it did not shatter under the blow, much to Harry's dismay.  
  
Malfoy looked up at him from the dirty stone floor like a reclining Greek god, his hair was undone and falling into his eyes as though it had been intentionally placed there and blood trickled from his nose as though applied with a fine bristled paintbrush. Damn! Couldn't Malfoy look anything but breathtaking, even in disgrace and defeat? But he wasn't defeated. Despite his bloody nose he looked up at Harry with smug satisfaction. And Harry tore from the room as if Voldemort himself were on his heels.  
  
He navigated his way blindly back to Gryffindor, sprinting up the steps, deaf to everyone's alarm at his abrupt and frenzied entrance. He flung himself on his bed and pulled the curtains. Blood rushed in his ears, but could not drown out Malfoy's voice.  
  
_Do you taste me on her lips when you kiss?_  
  
It was too agonizing to be true.  
  
Harry had known Saryn and Malfoy were an...item, always together except when the castle slept and she was with Harry. But somehow he'd managed not to think about what their relationship might entail. Those things didn't happen in the daylight hours did they? They were reserved for moonlight, for witching hour rendezvouses and cricket serenades in deep midnight shadows...They were reserved for him weren't they?  
  
How could he have been so naive? Did he really think Malfoy would have continued to lavish his attentions on her if she hadn't responded his advances? Malfoy was too proud to court rejection with such passivity.  
  
Draco, that milk and honey sculpture of refinement. The rich princeling with satin white skin and platinum corn silk hair, the heir of Malfoy Manor and all the wealth and mystery it contained. And what did Harry have to offer compared to that? Clumsy hands, rough from too much Quidditch practice without gloves, perpetually untidy hair, thick glasses and a scar sullied face? That and a lifetime supply of fear of torture or death at the hands of Voldemort and his followers in their attempt to kill Harry himself.  
  
He had been a fool. Now _all_ Harry could think about was what Draco and Saryn's relationship might entail. He could just see them together. Draco's insistent caresses, Saryn's beguiling smile. Those naturally red velvet lips locked to Draco's silk coral ones.  
  
Harry was dying, absolutely dying...and then slowly realized his hand had somehow drifted, without his intention, to rub the ever swelling bulge between his legs.  
  
_Oh God! I am not doing this...I am NOT jerking off to an image of my girlfriend with Draco Malfoy!_  
  
But every time he closed his eyes, Harry saw them. Saryn trailing teasing kisses down Draco's neck, his chest. Saryn falling to her knees before a grinning, triumphant Draco, as he freed himself for her to devour.  
  
Harry groaned and turned his face to his pillow, screwing his eyes shut in anguish, even though closing his eyes was made the image impossible to ignore. He had unzipped his jeans now, as though by some volition that was not his own, and was stroking the length of himself through the fabric of his favorite worn boxers, the ones bearing snitches and soaring brooms. He was near to tears. He saw...  
  
Saryn opening her lips to take Draco into her mouth.  
  
_No_  
  
Saryn running her tongue along the sensitive underside of Draco's enormous pink shaft.  
  
_No_!  
  
Draco throwing his head back in ecstasy, burying his fingers into Saryn's long rope-like waves as she worked his cock back and forth.  
  
NO!  
  
"Harry? Harry, are you all right?"  
  
_Oh no._ Ron was at the door of their room. Harry figured he must have shouted aloud. He looked down the length of himself and noticed a small wet spot darkening the front of his boxers. "Shit." he whispered.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Just a minute, Ron." he called from behind his curtains. He swiped at his crotch with the scarf draped over his headboard, hoping it wouldn't ruin, then stuffed and zipped himself before pulling open a crack in the bed hanging.  
  
Harry's cheeks were flushed badly and his hair more mused than usual. Ron looked at him oddly. "Are you all right there?"  
  
"Smashing. Can I help you?"  
  
"I live here?" Ron said with raised eyebrows.  
  
"Right,"Harry answered. "So there was nothing you needed?"  
  
"Well, I was going to ask what you found out."  
  
Found out? "Oh, right."  
  
"Was it bad, Harry? You look upset."  
  
Was is bad? No...it was horrible. "I am. But I can't talk about it right now. I think I need to lie down a tick. You understand don't you?"  
  
Ron nodded and offered Harry an encouraging smile, and then turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Harry heaved a sigh and fell back on the bed. He was trembling.  
  
_I'm losing my mind, I'm losing my mind._ Harry was gripping his hair in fistfuls at his temples. _I'll be completely daffy in about ten more minutes. I can't_ believe _I just jerked off to a vision of Draco fucking Malfoy  
  
.........and I_ liked _it._

***  
  
Draco Malfoy despised Harry Potter. Positively detested the boy. And with every step he took his hatred grew. Of course, Saryn was who he was truly angry with at the moment, but Draco wasn't going to let that minor detail deter him. He was so used to roiling about Potter that whenever these particular emotions surfaced it just seemed natural to direct them at The Boy Who Lived. After all, if it _weren't_ for Potter Saryn would have fallen for Draco's wiles long ago. She would be completely his now. And if she was, she wouldn't have rejected his invitation. And if she hadn't rejected him his father wouldn't have had to...  
  
Draco didn't really want to think about the circumstances of or motives for Mary Sylvany's death. If he'd only known how important it really was to his father for Saryn to join them...then he would have tried harder to...No. He wouldn't think about this. Better to be pissed off at Potter. Besides, being angry with Potter always made him feel better and this occasion was no exception. So he went about doing just that, with a dialogue free steadiness.  
  
Draco suspected Potter would be very keen to talk to Saryn, after his oh so obvious interest in the Great Hall. But it wasn't likely the boy would come knocking on the Slytherin common room door, assuming he even knew where to find it. So Draco reasoned he'd probably go to the only place he had ever known Harry and Saryn to meet: the Observatory.  
  
He was of course correct, and he acknowledged it smugly to himself. The door was ajar and Harry Potter was indeed there and seemed to be trying to occupy himself until Saryn arrived. _Won't he be surprised?_  
  
Inexplicably, however, Draco's previous fury was now dulled. Maybe it was the way Harry seemed so innocently trusting, leaving the door open for anyone to lean there quietly against the door frame and watch him, as Draco did now; the way he just stared at the decrepit astronomy equipment with a rather, in Draco's opinion, stupidly oblivious expression. Perhaps he almost felt sorry for the boy. 'If he only knew,' Draco thought. 'It may be fairytale now, Potter. But just wait until you piss her off.' Draco gave a slow, but especially despicable smirk at the thought of Saryn hanging Potter from the wall by his toes after being his usual stubborn and foolish self.  
  
No. Draco wasn't nearly as angry as he was...and so he decided to lean there in doorway and let his anger boil again. He wanted to be ready.  
  
Draco did this often, let himself swim in his emotions, to savor them, especially these particular emotions. It seemed to him that in doing so he could draw on their energy and so put such power to constructive use instead of succumbing to the spontaneous and disgustingly uncontrolled expenditure of it he witnessed in other's expression of emotion. Draco Malfoy had perfected the art of rage. At least, that's what he told himself  
  
_Damned lucky bastard._ he thought _The Great Harry Potter my arse. He's always just been lucky, and one day his luck will run out._ Ooooh. The injustice of it cut Draco to his core like a white hot machete. Harry wasn't a great and talented wizard. He wasn't a genius. He wasn't even really unusually handsome...not really. But Draco could see what Saryn saw in him. He was quite 'cute' after all. Not gorgeous like Draco, but cute...and unintentionally charming, in a sickening Gryffindor/put-upon-hero kind of way. He seemed vulnerable as well. And Saryn was a Slytherin after all, and every good predator knows how to pick out the weak ones. Something in them is drawn to that: an easy kill, but a glorious one. _Yes, Potter, it's all your fucking fault, intentional or no. Your fault for being an obvious schmuck and a mark. And I do hate you_..Draco wanted to hurt Harry, not with curses...he wanted to crush the boy and his pathetic illusions. _Wonder how he'll take this. Wonder if he has bothered thinking on it at all. I bet he thinks he can trust her. Ha!_ The schmuck actually thought there was a definite line between Good and Bad, Righteous and Evil, Love and Usefulness.. _It's high time for a wake up call for our precious Mr. Potter... And now, I think I'm ready to give it to him._  
  
"She's not coming." Draco said in an easy, almost bored drawl, amazing considering the tempest behind that cool facade. Oooh, the fire in those green eyes. _Startled you did I?_ But there was something besides surprise there that Draco wasn't sure he understood, but ignored. After all, he was just getting warmed up, he didn't want to be distracted.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" Harry hissed. _What's this? An invitation? Well, as good as._ Draco stepped inside the room. The dust in the air was surprisingly thick. He glanced at Potter through the haze, hoping the Gryffindor could feel his contempt through it. But Potter was still staring at him with that peculiar look on his face, as if he were enthralled by something. _I'll wake him up_ , Draco decided with a curl of his lip.  
  
"It's lovely to see you as well, Potter" _But there's no need to stare, for Merlin's sake._ "I heard you had an...unfortunate encounter with a bludger at the beginning of the year," he taunted throwing Potter a meaningful look. "So how _are_ your ribs?"  
  
"Just why are you so bloody _concerned_ , Malfoy?" Potter spat back. _That a boy, give me somethin to work with._ Draco was mildly grateful his subtly wasn't lost on the prat.  
  
He was pretty sure Saryn never saw this side of Potter, and he thought it unfortunate. The boy didn't have the sharpest of tongues, but those brilliant green eyes spoke volumes. This was of course the only way Draco ever saw him, and that is of course how he preferred it. But he realized now how almost...sexy...it was, the way Potter looked at him. Draco, a true aesthetic by nature and upbringing, had to appreciate those eyes. Not that he had ever had any qualms about considering other boys attractive and was trying to justify it. He'd watched Blaise Zambini very closely in the shower room for years without shame. But Potter wasn't at all like Blaise. No, he was much...thicker, more substantial. Slight, definitely, but solid, not lithe and waifish like Blaise or, Draco realized, himself. He looked at the boy opposite him for a heartbeat longer, then shrugged off the thought and resumed building his snare.  
  
"So...how is she?" Potter asked finally in hesitant voice when Draco proceeded to ignore his question.  
  
Draco wasn't sure why, but Potter's audacity at mentioning _his_ girlfriend as though he had a right to know...even if that was what Draco had expected before he came, was in fact counting on it...elicited a very unwelcome surge of anger in Draco. It was so unexpected he hardly had time to reign it in and snapped at Potter before he realized just what he was saying. "Now why are you so _bloody_ concerned, Potter!"  
  
Potter practically grunted and shook his head. _Oh bloody hell, he can't leave yet! Damn it, Draco, get a grip._  
  
"Saryn's in her room." he conceded reluctantly, even as Harry had his fingers on the handle of the half closed door. Potter turned back and Draco almost sighed with relief. He could save this yet.  
  
"Is she alright?" Potter asked timidly. Draco knew he must actually care. _Good. This is going to be spectacular._  
  
Draco smiled and his eyes just might have sparkled. He shook a finger him. "Oh no. I answered your question, Potter. Now it's my turn."  
  
The angry frustration he got from Potter with that remark! Draco could practically taste the energy in the air. He drank it in, as Harry seemed to chew it, his dramatically cut jaw setting and unsetting as he glared at Draco. It was quite striking. Everything about Potter was dramatic, though, wasn't it? Roughly hewn and oh so masculine. _Battle away with yourself, you know you aren't leaving yet. And for several reasons now I hadn't anticipated, I'd be very disappointed if you did._ Draco thought he might have actually licked his lips. _Mustn't forget myself. I hate this boy. I want to crush him.... Under me maybe?...Hmmm..._  
  
"What do you say, Potter? A little quid pro quo?" When Harry didn't reply, Draco went hurriedly on.  
  
"I've often wondered...how is she with you? Is she blushing?...Contrite?... _Virginal_?" he asked staring intently at the boy. Of course, he was stretching things, as far as Draco knew she _was_ virginal...but Potter need not know that. Draco did not fail to note the fabulous way all of Harry's muscles seemed to tense at once at under that enticingly tight sweater that hugged him in all the right places when he spoke those words. Draco held his hands behind his back trying desperately to resist the urge of running them over his own chest to coax down his arousal. _Sweet Merlin!..._ Naturally Saryn was attracted to Harry. Draco somehow wondered how he had been so blind to the boy for so long. After all, you can loathe something and still appreciate it's beauty. He stole a head to toe glance. _Stay focused_...  
  
"She'd have to be wouldn't she?" he jeered, recovering himself very nicely he thought. "To appeal to your _noble_ tastes." .  
  
_That got him to thinking. Good boy. Now it's sinking in. Time to draw in for the kill._  
  
"No answer, Potter? Well here's another, one I'd really love for you to answer." Draco's heart tripped in anticipation. He decided he had to move in closer for this, he wanted to be able to see Harry's expression clearly when he delivered his finale. He took a step and the haze parted in front of him almost as if someone had drawn back a curtain.  
  
_Those eyes!_ Draco practically growled to himself. He could see Harry's doubt, his mistrust, but also his searching hope in those eyes. Always the optimist. _Fool. Luscious fool_. Draco's fingers were practically numb he clasped them so tightly. He realized he had leaned in very close to Harry, drawn like a magnet to his distress, his sensuousness.  
  
"Tell me, _Harry_." Had he spoken loud enough to be heard? He wasn't sure. He was almost lost now. Draco had to remind himself to breathe. Ah, the way Harry's full ruddy lips twisted in disquiet. Was Draco's mouth watering? He realized he was still moving towards them, slowly, wistfully. He diverted himself at the last moment and pretended to want to whisper in the other boy's ear, hoping to the gods Harry was too thick to notice.  
  
Shit, that was worse. Draco's face was a fraction of an inch from Harry's firm jaw...his strong neck. Draco tried not to imagine how sweet that skin might taste. He could _smell_ him now...and he smelled of the tinge of sweat, of dust, and still of clean bed sheets. _Bed...sweat..._ And his hair. Draco had to summon all his will power not to bury his nose in it. Then he suddenly saw himself latching his teeth to Harry's earlobe and almost shuddered with the urge.  
  
" _Do_ tell me" he forced himself to continue. He'd come this far. He was damned well going to finish. "...Do you ever taste me on her lips when you kiss?"  
  
The last line was agony, and Draco was relieved when it was out, relieved when Harry pulled away from him.  
  
Harry's absence and the expression on his face brought Draco back to his senses. He had succeeded in his original intentions all right, obviously far better than he could have hoped. Draco locked eyes with Harry, trying to repress his sudden and very strong urge to pounce on him, when abruptly the look in the other boy's eyes turned from confusion to pure savageness and Draco scrambled frantically for his wand.  
  
Rather too late, Draco realized Harry had no intention of dueling. He saw stars as the Gryffindor's fist connected solidly to his face and the next thing he knew he was looking up at Harry from the floor. Despite the pain in his face, (and arse where he'd landed hard on the stones) Draco couldn't help but curl his lips in appreciation. _That was some slug. I wonder what else those strong arms can do._ Then he felt blood trickle down his lip.  
  
_Damn him for distracting me!_ Draco cursed silently to himself. Broken noses were not attractive and the healing spells didn't always set things back perfectly. Draco suddenly felt the urge to sling some vicious insult at Potter, but before he could even open his mouth the boy had fled.  
  
It was just as well. Draco's adrenaline was wearing off and he could now keenly feel the throbbing in his nose and arse...and somewhere else as well. The encounter had left him with a raging hard on that Saryn wasn't bloody likely to remedy later, Draco thought peevishly. Of course Potter _would_ get one up on him in the end...no pun intended of course.  
  
Had it been worth it? He'd succeeded in disillusioning the prat, distressing him to no end, hopefully ruining his relationship with Saryn. But that didn't seem to matter quite so much at the moment...not in face of Draco's new discovery, that Harry Potter, besides being an insufferable git, was also fucking sexy as hell, especially when angry...as he probably also had succeeded in making Potter thoroughly pissed at him. It might be hard to convince someone to lay off killing you in order to give you a chance to shag them first, Draco figured.  
  
Not that he hated Potter any less, mind you. But you don't have to like a person to find then wickedly shaggable. Draco would have to ponder the situation later. As it was, he simply couldn't be bothered with any of it at the moment. He figured his nose wasn't as bad off as he had thought, as it hurt much less now. But he was still eager to get back to the common room, for it was simply too bright and exposed in the observatory to be masturbating wildly, and his cock was telling him in no uncertain terms it simply couldn't wait much longer. 

**Author's Note:**

> Orphaning this. Feel free to run with it, anyone.


End file.
